More Procrastination via BritLit Villains

It's a struggle to bring myself to start my final essay/project for BritLit, even though my professor basically told me that no matter what I turn in, I'm getting an A in the class. Despite this and her insistence that I needn't stress over this at all, I've fixated on the idea of each character being written in an imitation of the style of their original work. This is possibly a mistake. I can probably pull off some old-school alliteration for Grendel, but am I really going to take it upon myself to imitate Shakespeare? And Milton, in all the glory of his squirrley syntax in twenty line sentences?

Yeah, I guess so.

Basic outline (major paraphrasing):

[Grendel, Iago, Mephistopheles, and Satan are iin Heaven, with yellow VISITOR passes looped around their necks]

Grendel: RAR! GORE AND VIOLENCE THROUGH THE FRONT DOOR FTW!

Satan: Maybe that's not the best way to do things.

Iago: Yeah, I remember somebody who tried to straight-up bring an army to bear on his Almighty creator, and if I recall correctly that didn't work out so well. Should have gone my route with some servile subterfuge.

Meph: Hush your mouth, Iago.

Satan: You were just following the path I laid out when I successfully employed deception to bring about a little thing known as, I don't know, The Fall of Mankind.

Meph: Laid out so successfully that millennia later I could use the same lure of knowledge and flattery to damn Faustus, a son of Adam who by all rights should have learned from his parents' Fall. (Sucker.)

Satan: Thank you, my good fiend. And we, already bent as demons, had to worm our way into the domain of our victims, we did not have the luxury of being cozily ensconced in their nest, as you were.

Iago: Yeah, I set myself up pretty sweet on the inside, didn't I? And I probably earned a pretty good place in your little kingdom of sinners along the way, huh? But you have to hand it to me-- I set up my lies completely from scratch, unfounded--- I had no demonic side-show tricks or magic fruit to follow through with--and that "valiant" Moor still killed himself and his little lady while his domain went to pot around him.

Satan: You indeed have a deep spot in my legions. A traitor's place is always guaranteed.

Grendel: YEAH, BETRAYAL IS PRETTY INTENSE. CAIN THE FIRST KIN-SLAYER WAS MY GREATGREATGREATGREAT GRANDDADDY SO I'M A MONSTER. ALSO FROM HELL I WATCHED HROTHGAR'S CLAN TURN ON EACH OTHER AND HIS SUPER-FANCY GOLD HALL BURNED UP. I WAS LIKE HAHAHA.

Satan: And surely we can agree on the effectiveness of the "divide and conquer" strategy? Simple Eve was won when Adam's guiding "manly grace" was elsewhere distracted.

Meph: Faustus as well was taken in solitude, no matter how scholarly; he himself had walled off his well-intentioned friends

Iago: I convinced Othello to abhor and discard his nearest and dearest (excluding, of course, yours truly) by implying my poisons in opportune moments when, just the two of us, the reason of others would not stand in my way.

Grendel: I SURE DO LIKE TO MUNCH ON A HEAP OF THANES BUT IT WAS BEST WHEN THEY SCATTERED AND HID IN THEIR OUTHOUSES AND I KNEW I WAS RULING THE ROOST

Satan: Pitiful humans just can't keep their wits about them, can they?

St. Peter: Well, I think you've sufficiently demonstrated to the junior hosts the nature(s) of the threat they face. Off you go back to hell then!

[Scene]

Well, that was helpful. Time to go actually write the thing, I suppose.

Two more days and I'm free.

The World is an Improbable Place

All the time, improbable things are happening to people with otherwise reasonable lives.

…

Did I ever tell you about the time I met the Devil?

We (the Boy and I) were walking home after visiting with a friend. We were in That Neighborhood—every city has at least one, the refuge of the artists, the druggies, the bohemians, the hippie kids living off the dregs left by the legacy of the Love Generation. None of the bland menace of Surburbia here; the buildings tumble together in a hodge-podge of colors and styles, all different but all dingy and not a little worn around the edges. In retrospect, it wasn’t particularly surprising to find him there, going about his business. It takes away credibility from the bogeyman in the closet image, at least.

In any case, dusk had set in, and we were looking to get home before total dark. But it was winter, and before we had made it halfway, night crept in and overtook us. It was clear and very cold, and the stars had rallied against the smear of streetlights to show an impressive strength of numbers. In fact, I was so caught up in gawking at the stars that I almost didn’t notice the man standing on the edge of the road.

He was talking on a cell phone when he caught sight of us. “No, no. Of course. Hey, let me call you back later. Okay. Ciao.” He snapped the phone shut. “Hey!” It took me a second to realize he was talking to us. He was standing next to a telescope, grinning and waving us over. Behind him, another man, short and stocky and wearing an oversized fur coat, was loading boxes into the back of a truck.

I glanced at the Boy anxiously. This guy seemed on the shady side, and I didn’t necessarily want to get drawn into talking with him. The Boy just shrugged and waved a greeting to the man. As we walked towards him, I eyed him suspiciously. He was a tall, swarthy fellow with dark close-cropped hair that came to a widow’s peak at his forehead. Now that we were closer, I saw that he had a thin scar that snaked down his left cheek. He was still grinning; it seemed vaguely out of place on his rather severe face.

“Here to catch the show?” he asked amiably. We exchanged puzzled looks as he waved, taking in the sky with his gesture. “The show,” he repeated, patting his telescope fondly. “Venus and Jupiter are dancing together tonight, folks, right above the crescent moon. Those cosmos are smiling right down on us.” He was still grinning, and the light was slipping and sliding across his teeth. It was beginning to unnerve me. As he went on to list other rare astronomical occurrences, I watched the other man load boxes and mentally named him “the sidekick.” Then the first man paused, looking at us.

“And do you know the next time this—all this—is going to happen? Hm? No?” His grin grew wider as we shook our heads. He looked over at his sidekick.

“2012.”

“Twenty-twelve!” he repeated brightly, sounding like a manic game show host. “Yes, 2012, that’s when it’s all going down. Big party, bi-i-ig party. Everyone’s going to be there. You guys should come.” We nodded, laughed a bit nervously. “Didn’t catch your names,” he said, looking at us. His eyes were hooded, and I couldn’t quite make out their color. We hesitated, then told him our names. He repeated them slowly, committing them to his memory. “Look forward to seeing you there,” he told us. I wondered how soon we could extract ourselves from this.

“Hey, are you guys in love?” the sidekick asked suddenly. The Boy and I looked at each other, taken aback.

“Um, yes, actually we are,” I replied. The Man (he had gained capital letter status in my mind) nodded. He held one hand out in front of him and brought the other one back, drawing an imaginary bow. He aimed at and “shot” the Boy, who played along, putting his hand to his heart.

“Yeah, that’s good,” the Man said, lowering his hands. “We’re gonna need more people like you two. Good people. Smart people.” He was grinning again. “You know.” We laughed again. Yeah, we agreed, we knew.

No one said anything for a moment, then the Boy mentioned the new Metallica album, which the Man seemed quite enthusiastic about. They threw that around for a while, then we finally made our good-byes.

“Very nice meeting you,” the Man said. “I’ll try and remember you guys…keep an eye out for you.” He winked. And as we turned to go, I thought I saw his eyes, for the briefest of moments, gleam bright red. I blamed it, like anyone would, on a trick of the light.

We continued along the street in silence, but when we got to the corner, we both spoke simultaneously.

“Was that--?”

“Did we--?”

We stopped and looked at each other, then kept walking.

After a moment, I said casually, “I’m thinking we just had a chat with Satan.”

“That’s funny, I was thinking the same thing.”

“Should we…I don’t know, go to church this weekend or something?”

“Nah. Probably wouldn’t help.”

“You’re probably right.” I thought for a moment. “That new movie’s playing tonight. Want to go? It’s still early.”

“Sounds good.”

So we continued on our way. I only glanced over my shoulder twice the rest of the way home.