My Dear Son, Lucifer...
Yes, it is true. I am your Father. Don’t worry. I’m not going to chop off your hand and make wheezing noises; I am just here to tell you about your background. It seems you had things a bit mixed up in one of your recent diatribes about what a bad guy I am.
First of all, Son, I must explain to you how it is that I spawned you. It is rather tricky, so pay attention.
When I was willed into existence all those millennia ago by hut dwelling simpletons in hides, I was by no means the perfect God you see before you today. Since Man made me in his image, I was steeped in deceit, lust, greed and all those other things I wasn’t really supposed to represent. But I did. I represented every aspect of the human psyche, bad and good, and more often than not I found myself lashing out in anger, causing earthquakes and floods. It was easy. I did it because I could, and those Humans are so annoying. You have no idea. You weren’t around back then so you don’t know. Just take my word for it. No, not the Bible. We’ll get to that later.
Anyway. Since I was more of a tribal attack ghost for these people than an omnipotent all-encompassing God of Love, I kinda sucked at most other duties. I didn’t really listen to all the prayers, I didn’t stick around for the sacrifices (the screaming gave me a headaches), and I have no idea who this Abraham guy is that claims some kind of kinship with me. Instead, I used every opportunity to fuck with humanity. After all, they had created me, a spirit monster, to carry out their crazy whims and silly notions of what should matter in this sorry world. Hand me a girl to toss in the lake and a bolt to stick through my neck, somebody. It got to the point where my anger had grown to such an infuriating level that I could only speak in fire tongues through a piece of shrubbery in the desert. Luckily, Moses came along and saved my day. I had my way with him like you wouldn’t believe. Boy, did that dumbass suffer. It was like playing Simon Says with a happy retarded kid on crystal meth. It was fun in the beginning, but it got so played in the end that I think I killed everybody. Didn’t I? I seem to recall sending your Aunt Death down there on a mission, and some sea that had to be split in two. It was a big mess. Nevermind…
Anyway, after a while I was all bummed out and I felt that my original blood thirst had been quenched by guilt and boredom, more human traits with which I had been blessed, and that all I could do was to crawl inside a bottle and just stay there until Armageddon. Then the idea came to me: Wait! What if I somehow divorced the bad parts of me? You know, cut out the bad stuff and heal! I conferred with myself for quite some time, involving a barrel ride down the Niagara Falls and a mysterious planet made out of cabbage, and then I had the world’s first true epiphany:
I would send a “son” to the humans to die for my sins!
Said and done. I got frisky with this chick, Mary, and a little later she had your brother, Jesus. He followed through, acting all sanctimonious and stuff, and people ate it the hell up. They nailed him to a cross and he died like the ultimate sacrificial lamb to free me from the shadows on my shoulders. In his death I was healed. Of course, the stupidity of Man interfered and they thought that they somehow had been blessed. But what are you gonna do? Tell them there is no Heaven? Please… Let that be a surprise.
Anyway. Bliss lasted for all of, what, two hundred years? Then I felt the urge to kill again. It was building up like a fever in my soul and I had to confine it in a jar that I labeled “Holy Ghost – Do not Open”. Some illiterate idiot chick, Pandora, of course, had to be a moron and steal my thunder, literally, but that is another story.
So there I was again - temporarily at ease after the separation from the Holy Ghost, but feeling the pressure rising inside. I was flawed. What could I do? Then it came to me again! I had gone about this the wrong way. I had made a good son to die for me, thinking that would set me free. No, I had to create an evil son to live for me – so the bad shit had somewhere else to go.
I made you. I gave you all my bad qualities: the greed, the lust, the sloth, the froth and whatever. You know what I mean. You were the quintessential anti-Christ. The very opposite of what I had try to achieve with your brother. I birthed you out of my own failures, not to die for my sins, but to carry my burdens for me eternally.
You have done very well, son. Of course the Bible tells us that you were around in the early days, to rebel against me and stuff, but that was just some artistic liberties I took with history, trying to sweep both your embarrassing puberty and my flawed past under the rug by putting it in a more “epic” perspective.
Hope you don’t mind.
Now I am sure you have questions you want to ask me. Like, do you have any other brothers? Who is your mother?
Well, kid. I would take you to Maury if I didn’t already know he’s been working for you for the past ten years. We already know what he will say.
How about Rikki Lake? Is she still around? Make it happen so we can make up for lost time. Go fishing or maybe start a plague or something, like in the old days. Oh, that’s right, you weren’t really around back then. I get confused.
Love always,
God (Dad)
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