Author's Note : This is mine and a very close friend of mine's parody of Paradise Lost. We loved the book so much we had to make fun of it.

Summary : What happens when the feared Lucifer is actually a hyper active demon? Between spaz attacks, sugar, being friends with Jesus, and obsessions with Vampires, how are her fellow demons supposed to survive?

Dear Diary,

MAO. Yes, mao. It's her new word. I want to strangle her. I can understand wanting to use a new word but AFTER EVERY FLIPPING SENTENCE is pretty damn annoying!! For example: I think we should have chocolate chip cookies today…(then changing to frequencies more commonly heard by dogs) MAO!

Ok, I feel better after torturing punctuation. But good God—yes, I'll say that name. Know why? Because the only thing I ever did wrong was to follow Satan. I was perfectly well behaved. I was just the devoted friend of one small, energetic seraph who thought she could make Heaven a little better. Goddamn fool I was, goddamn idealist she was, goddamn stick-up-their-collective-arses Heaven and their inflexibility.

It started so small. She wanted to sing in the heavenly choir. She's fucking tone-deaf. But then, as now, she was a pretty big name (different names, of course, but I'll get to that in a minute); God's right-hand woman, in fact. So no one had the guts to tell her she couldn't carry a tune in a backpack, even me. And you know, in those days, she talked to me a lot.

So, it turns out that she finally got told off by a small, newborn cherub. That killed it there. I kind of feel sorry for the cherub in hindsight… I mean Lucifer told him off, and promptly decided to throw him outside the pearly gates. I think it was a prank. I think. It wasn't long before she got some friends to make sure he couldn't get back in. (I still wonder how she did that so fast.) We got in a lot of trouble for that one. She took that criticism as well as any—not well. Not that I blame her, considering who was doing the criticizing: Michael. He is about as pompous as they come in Heaven. I didn't hear the words that were said, but Michael and Lucifer never spoke kindly to each other again. Every morning I used to wake to the sound of Lucifer and Michael sparring, bantering, or making up after the bouts. They were very close, despite the differences in their personalities.

There were other little arguments after that. The final stroke was quite horrible actually; Lucifer made me swear to never speak of it. It involved a full moon, water gazing, and someone being shoved into water. Someone couldn't swim, and the former ended up having to save her. She's quite ashamed of it actually, the fact she can't swim. The wings didn't help either. She then went along and decided to "burn his ass". Then, all hell broke loose; literally. Then we, meaning all the angels who tried to torture the cherub (not on Lucifer's orders might I mention--some fan club thing) and Lucifer (now calling herself Satan in protest), and myself (who just happened to be there) were thrown in. Not a crowd-pleasing experience, well, if you ignore Satan, who screamed "Whee!" as she fell.

We landed in the lake of fire. Remember the not-able-to-swim thing?

That, as you can guess, was not the worst of Hell. I mean, it's Hell. I've always thought the punishment outweighed the wrongdoing, but I guess that's what we've learned to expect from God. That, and I'm quite sure not all of the details have been made known to me. Like I said earlier, Satan doesn't talk to me as much now; she's busy, and easily distracted.

Speaking of which…maybe if I can get her to fixate on a new word, I won't strangle her before the week is out. God, I'm a genius.

--Beelzebub

Dear Diary,

God, I'm anything but a genius. I succeeded in giving her a different word—a much better word, a word she loved so much she's now using it at least twice in every sentence, often going out of her way and stretching the limits of grammar in egregious ways to fit it in.

Now, I'm hearing nothing but the word, "debauchery". I don't think she even knows what it means. The worst part of it is, other demons seem to like the word as much as she does. Belial has of course, latched onto it, and Mammon, normally so reserved, is breaking out of his shell to join in the "fun".

This is how the conversation went:

"Um, my Lady?"

"Yes? MAO!" she said, in her this-had-better-be-important voice. She was holding treats, trying to teach a Cerberus puppy how to attack on command. She was about to release a lunging dog at a mannequin that looked as though it had been painted with gravy.

"If I may ask…" I decided to be direct, since I doubted she would spot a plot against her if she were hit across the face with it. "Why do you keep saying Mao?"

Satan whipped her head around to glare at me, as if I had asked why she was training Cerberus, which hadn't slipped my mind. "Why not say mao, Mao? Mao is like the meaning of life, mao. Mao is like the beloved chocolate sundae lactose-intolerant people want, mao. Why, mao?" She let go of the Cerberus, and it went running towards the lovely gravy smelling puppet. "Aah, no! Come back, Gypsy! Mao!" She went running after it, her now raven black wings fluttering as she tried to hurry after him.

"Um. Have you…ever considered other philosophies on life? There are many, after all."

She glanced at me, interested.

"Oh yes," I continued, on a roll now. "There are other words, poetic words, beautiful all-encompassing, powerful words, every syllable of which rings with the essence of life itself."

She was looking at me as though I possessed more divine knowledge than God Himself. Her mouth was hanging open, and she finally gasped, "Teach me. Oh please, teach me."

There, I thought. I'm a fucking genius. "For example…" I cast around in my memory. "Debauchery," I said at last in a tone laden with gravity.

She nodded slowly, contemplatively, still gaping at me. "Debauchery," she repeated the word with the greatest reverence, wrapping her lips around each syllable as though it was as savory as chocolate.

She broke away from her attempts to pry Gypsy away from the mannequin, and ran out of the room into the corridor. "EUREKA!" she screamed to all denizens of her palace that could hear.

Belial blinked at the sound of the famous scream that came from Satan's lips constantly. "What now, darling?" he teased. She stopped in mid-frolic and grinned evilly.

"Beezie taught me a new word! I love this word! It's like… like…" she stammered for a bit, bringing a bigger grin on Belial's face ("Beezie?"). "Well, Beezie said that it was beautiful and poetic and--and stuff… but it sounds funny too."

"Don't leave me hanging, what's the word?"

"DEBAUCHERY!"

Belial and Mammon, who happened to walk into the room at the wrong time, burst out into maniacal laughter. Belial managed to gasp out, "I highly approve darling! And Beelzebub," he turned his insufferable grin on me. "So glad you've decided to explore your…philosophical side. If you want any help with that, you know where to find me." He winked. I groaned.

"Oh! Help me! HELP ME!" screamed the Princess of Darkness in an ecstasy of spiritual inspiration. I immediately started to drag her away, to save her from herself. "DEBAUCHERY!" she cried again as I towed her off. Belial fell off his chair, he was laughing so hard.

"I knew I followed her for a reason!" He cried after us. I plan on avoiding him for a while. I wonder if this is what Satan felt like when Michael sent Lucifer flying into a lake of Holy Water: helpless.

It went downhill from there. I want to die.