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I'm Not Bitter
Ladies and gentlemen, it has come to my attention that you have been misinformed about me. You have been told things that are either half-true or untrue. Either way, I feel it is necessary to set these wrongs right. I am aware that in some of your pursuits of religious enlightenment, you have been told that I am evil. Now, I cannot say that this is entirely a lie, but it also is not entirely true. No my friends, there is much more to the story than that. I was once an angel. And not just an ordinary angel, mind you, I was the most awe inspiring, beautiful celestial being aside from Brooke Shields. But long ago, God decided to cast me out of because I foretold what the human race was to become: a race of imperfect creatures with the capacity to think on their own. Well, I'll have you know that I am not bitter. Nor am I surprised if you have concluded that I am Lucifer. But since you seem so respectable, you may call me Louie.
It seems that for nearly all of eternity, God and humans have been quick to blame me for the faults and shortcomings. Well, they're wrong. God created me and everything else in this bloody world, so it would be his fault. Surprising, isn't it? Who would have guessed that our omnipotent Master of the Universe has flaws and weaknesses? But as I pointed out before, I am not bitter. Why, you ask? I will tell you why. Because despite all the
issues I have faced with God, I was bloody fine until that little snot-nosed brat Jesus was born.
My problems actually began around the region of Bethlehem, when I disguised myself as a shepherd to find out if there was any interesting gossip. Unfortunately for me, they were just trading complaints about their wives. I was on the verge of going back to my "happy little kingdom" when suddenly this angel appeared. "Be not afraid," the angel said to the shepherds, "For behold, I bring you good news of a great joy which will come to all the people; for to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord." Naturally, I was shocked. After all, Christ means the Son of God, and being Satan, it made sense. And as if that were not enough, a sudden multitude (so says the Bible) of angels came down singing and praising the "glory" that tired old hack God. If memory serves me correct, the group was Heaven's own Chamber Choir. I auditioned for a spot in the choir, but (to put it simply) I was blessed with looks, not talent. But I wasn't bitter. So getting back to the story… As soon as the angels went away, we departed for Bethlehem.
Once we had arrived in Bethlehem, we went to this Inn where the Infant was supposedly born. Well, to my surprise, he was not born in the Inn. The noisy little newborn was in a crib of straw! Imagine that! The Son of Mr. Big-Stuff-God asleep in a foul-smelling pile of hay! Oh, what a riot it was. I did not laugh, of course, but I just couldn't keep myself from snickering. Actually, if he had not been the Son of God, I would have thought him
to be a delightful little tike. But being that he was, I felt nervous in his presence. I walked over to a nearby tree and transformed into a bird so people would have less of a chance of recognizing me. And from a branch on that tree, I watched the events of that night, knowing that the infant in the manger was to become my most feared opponent.
Really, the events of that night were not all that exciting. The sheep filth-scented shepherds praised Him, angels praised him, and even three wise men came to praise him. Praise, praise, praise. That's all it was! Did I mention that I am not bitter? Just because I was cast out of Heaven, blamed for every wrong in the world, and now had a mortal enemy who could go around and vilify me even more
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Son of God, Jesus, Little Office of the Passion, John L. McKenzie
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