[ WP ] A lonely , old lady keeps misdialing and ends up calling you to talk nearly everyday . You are Satan .

I stood at the crossroads of reality. It's a common misconception that Hell is a dark cavern, full of fire and brimstone. Of course, there are parts of Hell that fit that description, but they did n't really show up until after the whole `` fire and brimstone'' propaganda blew up. Even then, it's only a small group, typically the hyper-religious people who were deathly afraid of Hell itself. The vast majority of humanity has other, deeper fears. 
 
 Hell is, in fact, a labyrinth of Hellscapes, or pocket dimensions, each inescapable to their mortal occupants. Each dimension is tailor made to maximize the punishment of some group of people or other. Demons, creatures of sin and evil, monitor over their worlds, and ensure that they're being punished. For the most part, the system runs pretty smoothly ( and well it should, as I've had millenia to perfect it ). The problem is that demons, being creatures of sin, inherently possess certain sinful qualities that can throw a metaphysical wrench into the whole machine, whether that comes in the form of a Sloth demon that fell asleep or a Pride demon that decided the work was beneath it. 
 
 That's where I come in. Allow me to introduce myself -- my name is Satan. Beelzebub. The Antichrist. The artist formerly known as Lucifer. You get the idea. Prince of Darkness and Ruler of Hell, which is what I should be doing right now. Ruling Hell, making sure all the demons are working hard, and not hardly working ( and yes, I am responsible for that joke ). Instead, I'm stood in the Aetherial Void between two Hellscapes, waiting for a phone call. 
 
 She does n't always call, although when she does it's usually around this time. God only knows how she got this number -- at least, I'm guessing God knows, because I sure as Hell do n't. It should n't even be possible for anyone outside of Hell to call it, but after the first two weeks I gave up trying to figure it out. 
 
 I wait what feels like a long time. As an angel, time does n't really effect me the same way that it does to mortals. Add to that the peculiar temporal uncoupling between Hell and the mortal world and the changes that happened to my very being when I Fell, and you can see why I do n't really do the whole time thing. Still, I waited. And waited. And just before I gave up and went to do the whole ruling thing, the phone rang. 
 
 You might wonder what ringtone the Prince of Darkness uses. Well, I'm sorry to disappoint, but I still use the default faux Marimba sound. Never got around to changing it, and then I just could n't be bothered too. 
 
 I pick up on the third ring. Ca n't have her thinking I'm too eager for our conversation. 
 
 `` George? George is that you?'' A thin voice, elderly, female. 
 
 `` I'm afraid not, Margaret. You hit the wrong number on your speed dial again, my dear.'' My voice is like silk on jagged glass, like sweet poison in your veins, like death itself. Destructive and irresistible. The voice that lured Eve to her doom, the voice that whispers in the sea and sky and tells the secrets of evil. I do n't cause evil, though; I merely tell my tales, and then I let humanity choose it's own path. But my voice has a way of worming into the hearts of the purest men and corrupting their virtuous life. 
 
 `` Oh, so I did. Well, it's a delight to talk to you as well, Stan, so it's just as well.'' Margaret was, as always, utterly unaffected by it. I've spoken to her for months, and not once has any cruelty, blasphemy, or sin entered her soul. It's refreshing, to be honest, if a bit worrying. 
 
 `` It's Satan, Margaret. Not Stan. You're leaving out...'' I trail off. It never works. I do n't think it's intentional, but Margaret seems utterly decided to call me Stan. `` Nevermind. What were you calling about?'' 
 
 `` Well, I was going to try and reach George, maybe have him and the kids come up for Christmas.'' She always sounded cheerful, but I knew that if she was trying to reach George, things had gotten desperate. 
 
 `` George? Have you already invited Sandra and the kids, then?'' I asked, dreading the answer. Margaret might be free of sin, but George and Sandra, her two children, were certainly not. 
 
 `` Oh, well, I tried, but Sandra said she's too busy.'' Busy my unholy ass. Sandra probably had some social ladder climbing Christmas party with her company, where she'd bring the kids and show them off to everyone. The levels of Pride in those places could make even me want to gag, and it was a terrible reason to stay away from a woman like Margaret. 
 
 `` And George? Is this the first time calling him?'' I asked, although I knew the answer. 
 
 `` Oh, well, no, I guess it's the fifth or so,'' she said. Her voice wavered a bit. I knew all about George and his wife, the one who had convinced George to put his aging mother in a home, the one who convinced him that Margaret was getting senile and it would be for the best if he cut contact with her. I've been saving a very special place in my domain for that bitch. 
 
 I take a breath and force myself to calm down. `` Well, you just keep on trying, Margaret, honey. I've got to get to work now, but I'll talk to you real soon.'' 
 
 `` Well, you take care now, Stan. And thank you for the flowers, they were just lovely.'' With, that she hung up. I knew she would keep trying to call George until the housekeepers took her away from the phone. 
 
 I told her I was going to work, but, well, I lied. Comes with the title, I suppose. Instead, I returned to my home, the center of Hell, the center of my Power. I gathered strength into myself, and prepared for a trip to the mortal world. Margaret would not spend another Christmas alone. 
 

