Lucifer sits, crammed into an office cubicle

His right hoof is quite uncomfortable

Jammed up into his desk like when

Your hand gets stuck in a Pringle can

So he’s pissed off, right,

None of these spreadsheets are sending right

He has a deadline coming up faster than a cheetah on cocaine

And six of his last sixty-six dates have ended with a drink in his face

So, already mad as a cat without teeth,

Lucifer gets called into his boss’s office

Retreating from his wretched lair

And un-wrenching his right leg out from under his desk that’s obviously way too small

For someone of his height

He’s been trying to lose weight, in case you cared to ask

But the goddamned desk is a painful reminder of his constant failure

To not eat a donut at the start of the day

So anyway, he heads to his boss’s office

Terry’s probably in a mood

Which isn’t helpful to anyone,

Because Lulu’s already in a mood

Lulu was what his mother called him on the days he was too sick to go to school

And, therefore, what he called himself in private

He’d be damned if Terry called him that

Sitting in his cushy chair, with a full-sized desk

Lucifer’s boss tells him that

Look, we’re all doing the best we can

But your best is like, Todd’s worst day of all time

And Todd’s stupid

So, you’re like

Fired and all that

 

Lucifer calls home that night,

Wanting to hear the sound of something comforting

But nobody picks up

Nobody ever picks up anymore

Who even listens to heavy metal?

Probably not Todd

As he lies awake,

On top of the twin bed with unwashed sheets

In boxers and a tank top counting dots on the ceiling

Lucifer falls

Asleep.

 

And he dreams of a place where

He is the king

And everyone who picked on him

Has a little tiny rock in their shoe, the kind that is known

To cause an existential crisis in some people,

Maybe they’re on fire forever

But that’s open to interpretation

He thinks of this not out of hate

But as a balance to his horrible day,

Where he is victimized over and over again

So what’s so bad about a little escape

About a place where he can see his pain

Reflected in mirrors upon mirrors with

The faces of those who made his life

A living hell.

 

Waking up from his nap,

At three in the morning

Lucifer brushes his teeth to go for a walk

His dream terrified him, and he would never act like that

Especially not in real life

But as his day goes on

He forgets about the horrible landscape,

Blueprinted by his subconscious

And moves on,

Getting a new job, finally losing those thirty pounds

And maybe finally being happy

Enough so that the nightmares stop

Bothering him, and in turn

The billions of sinners cooking

In Satan’s subconscious.

 

Have a little empathy for the devil,

Because then maybe he’ll cheer up

And people will realize that

Hell is relative.