Barnaby the Wanderer

Chapter 25: Of Pots and Punishments

Saint Lucif, Patron of Just Penance

Yes, I have a tea kettle. There is nothing special about my tea kettle. Bronze, with floral design of ivy and flame. Made by Hefestus himself. A going-away present from the Upper House. Signed by all the old gang. Michael, Uriel, Ariel... I make tea with it. Just tea.

No, I do not have seven asses. Just one. Really, who would want more? With seven complete sets of buttocks, how would one sit? As for my primary generative organ... I refuse to discuss it. Thorns, spikes, snakes, flames? No business of any but myself. Well, and whoever I'm with, going about the business. House politics aside, St. Bridget adores me. Ask her.

My lips? are just lips. Quite nice, actually. Yes, they flame some. I'm not embarrassed by that. What fool wouldn't want flaming lips?

Yes, I, Lucif, do have a mother. No, she does not have an unhealthy relationship with her dog though she cares for the thing far more than she values me not that I care. Don't care at all. It has two heads, not three. One ass, one tail. A fondness for peeing in important places such as the Conference Room of Judgement. On my rugs. Not that I care.

Yes, I have a sister. No, I do not have an unnatural relationship with her. We correspond affectionately. She sends me small gifts. Flowers carved from souls, and montages of living hearts torn from sinners' breasts. I send her boxed spirits I know she will enjoy. The saltier sorts, mostly.

The endless 'Lucif take this', 'Lucif kiss that', 'Lucif stuff him/her up all seven asses'... These curses never amuse me. Never. They puzzle. Even if one were provided with six extra anuses, how does one go about the simultaneous stuffings? And more importantly, why do such stuffing? Forcing struggling, screaming, writhing sinners up my alleged seven personal orifices would punish me more than them.

Yes, I have a chamber pot. I'm a traditionalist. The modern fad of water pipes and dainty porcelain mechanisms annoy me. Chamber pots were fine in the old days of the Upper House. Simple; not to forget environmentally friendly.

Yes, I use my chamber pot to punish the wicked. Just not the tea pot. The tea pot is strictly for tea. While my chamber pot is five miles across, deep as Abaddon's eyes and filled daily with excrement so foul as to make harpies regurgitate the bones of mortals devoured when St. Chronos was a youngster.

I fill the chamber pot myself, most mornings. Usually while reading. I take my time. It's a moment of quiet, which Infernum knows, Infernum lacks. Often, I have my most inspiring thoughts right there atop the pot. While it fills with the digested remains of the nastier souls I've devoured. They still wiggle and whine, of course. They scream endless curses. Lucif bite so-and-so's privates. St. Lucif take me for his sister. Lucif's mother's dog bite their behind. Lucif stuff his thorned cockerel up my ass.

As if I would!