And lo, God looked out upon the Earth, and saw the multitudes listening to wretched music.
“What the hell is this?” The Lord yelled in a voice loud enough to…well, to shake the heavens. “What is this abomination?”
“It is called Dashboard Confessional, Oh Most Merciful and Joyous Lord.”
“I find it difficult to be Joyous,” the Lord snapped, “listening to that pitiful wailing! Pete, pull up skype and get me Lucifer on the webcam. Now!”
“At once, my Lord,” St Peter murmured.
And lo, the face of That Accursed Fiend; Lucifer, appeared on the computer screen. Her eyes flashed a caustic black, her red lips pulled back in a sharp sneer.
“What do you want now?” she growled.
“What in Hades is going on?” The Lord winced. “What is this sound I hear rising up from the world? Music, if it can be called such, which makes even the tortured souls of the damned sound pleasant in comparison? What have you done to Chris Carrabba? What have you done to Spider-Man 3?”
“You old Wanker!” Lucifer interrupted. “It’s called EMO, and it’s a device of mankind’s own free will, and none of my doing!”
“Ha, as if I would believe the Princess of Lies! Only someone as sick and evil as yourself could come up with such an atrocity to music, that it makes those who listen to it cry and cut themselves…”
“Alright,” Lucifer snapped, “that’s it! You just called me on the Wrong day. I have a hangover like you wouldn’t believe, and I’ve been on the rag for three fucking days, and now you call to bitch about a musical genre that’s been old news for months, and you wanna blame that pansy-rock on me? You want a musical atrocity? You got it. I’ve got something I’ve been waiting to release; a weapon that’s going to decimate Emo, Alternative AND Indie Rock! By the time I’m done, you’ll be begging me to play you some Fall Out Boy!”
“You wouldn’t *dare* bring back Black Sabbath!” the Lord turned a shade pale.
“Worse.” Lucifer smiled sweetly.
The Lord’s mind reeled at the possibilities.
“Blow me,” he said. “Thou art bluffing.”
“Swear to God,” the Old She-Satan spat, and hung up on the No-Longer-Joyous Lord.
Lucifer spun, and stormed off, her heels clicking echoes down the dreary black marble halls. A robe of smoke fluttered around her.
“Who does he think he is?” she said to herself as she picked up her i-phone and dialed a number from memory.
“Sugar here,” a voice answered through a haze of bad cellular reception.
“Sugar, dahling,” Lucifer drawled. Her face lit up with a pleasant smile. “I have some openings for Jagged Spiral to play, do you think they might be interested dear?”
[…to be continued.]