A Holiday Message from Satan

BOW DOWN BEFORE ME, WORMS!

The slime, Lucian, has displeased me; consequently I have punished him by making him clean all of hell's litter boxes. I have realized, though, that while he is hip-deep in the Detritus of the Damned no one is spreading my message. Except my Chosen One, Mike Huckabee, of course.

So, my quivering maggots, you have been celebrating your holidays. How many Deadly Sins have you committed? I'll assume you have committed gluttony and pass on. After stuffing yourself into a near-coma with sugary treats, how long did it take you to move any part of your body beside your bowels? Ah, poor slothful darling!

How eagerly did you tear open your presents to get to your i-pods? Greed my crawling minions. Were you just a little piqued when you realized that Cousin Jeoffrey had received an i-phone. Tut, tut, that's envy.

Did you want to scream when Great-Aunt Myrtle got tipsy on eggnog and started singing inappropriate songs? Oh, dearie me, that's wrath.

Were you guilty of lust? Are you male? How about female? Mmmm? Hasn't Cousin Becky (or Biff) grown since last year? My, doesn't your sister-in-law look good since she lost the baby weight?

Were your proud? Are you human? I can't imagine why you little slugs would be proud, but you always are, in your nasty little hearts.

Oh, I know, when you wake up hung-over on New Year's Day, you'll make a little list of resolutions and you'll promise to be better, but it won't last: it never does. Give up now, my creatures; give yourselves to me and Vote Huckabee.