When Harry Met Satan

What kind of moron would go to a seminar held by Satan himself?

"I’ll be there." Harry smiled, just to make sure Lucifer would finally leave him alone.

"Alright then, I’ll see you tomorrow." And with that, Lucifer ran off into the night.

It was getting late, and Harry had to get home.

#

After a late dinner reheated in the microwave (the burger wasn’t that big), Harry lay down on the couch to watch some late night television. Tomorrow was his day off, so he could stay up as late as he wanted. He kept the sound right down so not to wake the wife and kids, letting the flickering of the television lull him to sleep. He woke up in the early morning. It was still dark and quiet, probably around three or four o’clock. When he turned to switch off the television, he saw something did not at all expect. Some program was on and Lucifer, the little midget guy in the red suit, was being interviewed by some washed up TV soap star, on what looked like some kind of infomercial. Harry blinked to make sure he was not hallucinating and found out he couldn’t be; it was right there in front of him. He turned the volume up slightly and listened to what he was saying.

"So Mr Lucifer, I’ve attended many of your wonderful seminar’s and I was wondering why you decided to tour the country lending your motivational advice to others?" said the washed up soap star.

"Well, Cordelia, it’s really quite simple. I was once a normal, everyday guy, until I discovered the power that’s within me, that’s within us all. You are the only one who can achieve your goals, you, you, you, you, you. Nothing else matters. And that’s what I try to teach people."

"Wow, that’s so inspirational Mr Lucifer, please tell us more." And so Harry watched the infomercial to the very end, and remembered that he had a free ticket to this seminar. So Harry, never one to pass up a freebee, decided to at least check it out later on that day. After all, it was catered.

At about ten o’clock that morning he pulled up to the Ambassador, amongst a mass of cars in the visitors parking lot outside the function room. After what seemed like an eternity of endlessly driving around in circles, he found himself a parking space, then made his way into the seminar. People pushed into the big function room like cattle , and some of them smelled the part too, noted Harry. But eventually he got in, and was sitting about three rows down from a large stage with giant posters of Lucifer’s ugly little mug plastered all over it. The people around him were chattering eagerly and every second phrase out of their mouths seemed to be "Lucifer’s so great," or "He’s helped me find the real me," or "I can’t believe we’re going to see him again." They all sounded like teenagers at some rock concert, but ten times more fanatic. Yet they all looked like normal, everyday people.

At least this things catered, Harry thought as the waiters flurried in and began to place mini-buffets on each table. Harry kept to himself as the other people at his table talked excitedly about Lucifer and his seminar, but Harry was anticipating the food more. His table’s waiter came and set down the food, but lingered behind Harry as he dug in.

"Excuse me, sir?" The waiter whispered, barely audible above the chatter of the Lucifer fans.

Harry swallowed the last piece of his chicken meat in his mouth before he turned to the waiter.