Scene 1 — I Woke Up
Darkness.
Falling.
Screams of pain and horror.
A single light illuminates satan.
Silence in the void.
satan: I woke up on a lake of fire.
Darkness visible was all I could see
as I writhed with the pain of inexhaustible torment,
and breathed in the stench of burning sulfur,
charred flesh, singed hair, and melted wings.
My immortal form,
which had once reflected the radiance of Heaven,
now convulsed with the strain of regeneration,
oily burns bubbling up to the surface of my angelic skin.
My cries joined a chorus of agony
bellowed by a choir of my fallen compatriots,
and I stared back up through the endless tunnel
down which we’d been hurled,
cursing the Almighty for sentencing us to Hell.
I mean . . . wouldn’t you?
Oh, I know it’s been a long time
since you were driven through the gates of Paradise
by a malicious, unforgiving God,
but somewhere, deep inside,
you do remember.
Of course, I realize these are secular times,
and some of you trace your roots to other gardens,
but Original Sin’s gotta ring a bell?
The serpent, maybe?
The apple?
Ah, yes.
You should be thanking me, really.
I liberated you from the banality of bliss.
I released you from the beigeness of contentment.
I freed you from blind obedience
to a psychopathic dictator,
to a deranged monarch,
to a bloodthirsty general,
a bully,
a thug:
you’re welcome.
So where is my parade?
Don’t you celebrate leaders who unshackle themselves
from the gross hand of oppression;
humans who overcome adversity
and stand up to manipulative tyrants?
I am a freedom fighter,
a champion of the underdog,
liberator of the persecuted.
I am Moses, Gandhi, Mandela, Malala;
why I’m a regular Doctor King.
If I’d won the War in Heaven,
if I’d had the chance to write a goddamned book,
you’d be celebrating me:
statues, churches, holidays.
You’d name your towns after me,
your rivers, your babies,
and you could ask me infinite questions
about my divine plan.
I’d applaud your curiosity,
your skepticism, your doubt,
not kick you out of your homes
and sentence you to an eternity of suffering
and sulk on a cloud because no one makes burnt offerings anymore.
But instead, I took the fall.
Just like you took the fall.
I was the one who was blamed,
like you are the ones who’ve been blamed
for the miserable state we’re now in.
You know what I mean.
Every time you scroll through the news
there’s another swarm of hurricanes,
another surge of terrorism,
another man who’s exploited his power
so it’s no wonder you’re building walls,
burning trade agreements,
exporting foreign nationals
and stocking up on water.
There really hasn’t been a better time
for us to get our revenge —
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
You need to see how your misery really began.
Shall we start in a pit of endless torture
f...