Ask Satan Anything

Editor’s Note:  This is Part One of Satan’s Two Part Hot Steaming Abortions in July Extravaganza.  Look for Part Two on Friday.

Dear Satan,

I’m 44 years old and have yet to find my soul mate.  Could this be a result of abortion being legal in the United States?

~ Date Term Abortion

Greetings Date Term Abortion,

First, I should go ahead and give you my view on abortion.  I’m pro.  Not pro choice.  Pro abortion.  All the way.  I’m sure that’s no big surprise.  And I’m into the late term abortion too.  I’m not talking third trimester, I’m talking up until age 18 at least.  If a parent decides their 13 year old sucks, they should have the legal right to abort.  Like, say you’re a pretty cool and hip parent who still listens to good music, who still has a cool haircut, and who still is into kinky sex.  Imagine you’re that parent, with a 13 year old who’s into Jars of Clay, abstinence and becoming Born Again.  Well, legalizing really super late term abortion would afford the hip parent the chance to make sure they didn’t become Born Again, correcting the mistake in letting them be Born the First Time.   It would be like a giant pruning of the human bush.  Which is teeming out of control.  I’ve said this before – I do not like teeming bush.  Not one bit.

I guess everyone knows that aborted fetuses go to Heaven.  What they don’t know is that I have a little arrangement with Saint Peter. He’s a bit of a sex fiend.  I supply him with Sussex Hens to satisfy his rather interesting fetish. Sure, I’m happy to tell you about it.  That’s what I’m here for.  First, he has intercourse with them vaginally.  After the first few thrusts, he begins plucking their feathers out one by one.  He says each pluck delivers him a jolt of pleasure that he can’t quite put into words.  Then he skins them while receiving oral, or beak, pleasure.  When that’s over, he fries them, and eats them.  He says he climaxes intensely at the end of each phase of this process.  His pride is that he uses the old American Indian tradition of getting the most out of every part of the animal with no waste.  He’s kind of eco-friendly in that way.  So yes, the gatekeeper of Heaven is a chicken fucker.

Anyway, in return for the Sussex Hens, he does a little easy work for me once in awhile.  When a shipment of aborted fetuses unloads at the dock upstairs, Petey smuggles them down here to me.  I stock our movie concession stand with them and charge $8.50 for a large – no refills.  They’re a perfect snack though – sort of soft, with a crunchy center and a vivid burst of juice.  As you take that first bite, there’s also this wonderful little scream that’s emitted that ricochets against the pallet in the most delightful way.  Really really good.  And obviously, a killer markup.  It’s really the only thing that brings the people in to the theater.  I’ve been playing Spice World on an endless loop since 1997.  This is Hell after all.

I’ve gotten off track. No, you’re loneliness was not caused because your soul mate was aborted before you could find them.  The problem is actually that you weren’t aborted.  You’ve probably heard that a lot in your forty-four years.

My recommendation is this.  Go to the dog park.  Steal a medium sized dog.  Soak the dog in kerosene and set it on fire and throw it from your third floor balcony.   This should make you feel better.  If you don’t live on the third floor, I can’t help you.  And don’t forget to read our disclaimer.  Idiot.

Your Welcome,

~Satan