The Devil’s In The Retail
Doing the shopping is always a chore, pushing a trolley down many
an aisle,
But on my last trip down to Tesco, I saw something which just made
me smile.
I’d come through fresh meat and groceries, and was just picking
some bread from the shelf,
When I noticed a miserable presence: in short, it was the Devil
himself.
I knew it was him from the pitchfork, his goat’s legs, his horns
and the cloak.
Then there was his red face and his sharp teeth, and all round him
there was a faint smell of smoke.
But there was something in his demeanour; I could tell that
something wasn’t quite right.
He looked miserable, all pasty and drawn: the demonic presence looked quite a sight.
Now I’m not a believer in Hades, but I couldn’t bear to see him
that way,
So I asked Lucifer of his troubles, and this is what he sadly had
to say:
“I’ve
got a narrowing job description, and Forces of Darkness are facing huge cuts,
We’re
out-sourcing Temptation Services, and minor devils are out on their butts.
And
the price of gas goes ever upward, so we can’t afford to run the fires all
night.
The
Tormentors have asked for higher pay, and Hell’s budget has got very tight.”
Then he swished his forked tail around for a bit, and his visage
looked dark, and of Death,
He had a bad case of halitosis, and he could have stopped a horse
with his breath.
“You
see - there’s a lack of believers; no-one these days gives much of a sod.
That’s
meant re-structuring the heavens, and down-sizing imposed by the Lord God.
The
Book of Revelation’s been revised, reduced to some lifestyle hints and tips,
The
number of The Beast is One-One-One, gone are the Horsemen Of The Apocalypse.
Then
there’s all of these Health & Safety rules, and the Human Rights of the bad
sinners.
We’re
not allowed to keep them all starving – that’s why I’m shopping for ready
dinners.
The
terrible reports on Trip Advisor were the straw that broke the camel’s back.
We’ve
had to close the burning lake of fire, and Beelzebub’s been given the sack.”
Old Harry cut a figure quite forlorn, and he was far from a
presager of doom,
The smoke no longer swirled about him, and his features showed up
clearly his gloom.
He said he couldn’t stop chatting longer – if he’s late then his
dog Cerberus yelps.
So I wished The Evil One “best of luck” – well, they say that
“Every Little Helps”.
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