Satan cried on, his tears immediately evaporating upon their falling, giving his face, overall, a far scarier look that the one he'd already had.

"I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!!" the fallen angel wailed, dignity forgotten.  "I relocated here so that, that… I could r-r-reign!  You know… 't-'tis better to r-reign in Hell than s-serve in Heavennnnn!  This isn't r-reigning!"  He buried his steaming face in his arms.

"DEAL with it, bastard!" shouted Heathcliff, "I'll get my revenge on you, too!  I shall trick you into gambling this little hellhole away to me, and then you'll see who was reigning all along!"

Satan looked up, sniveling so pitifully one almost forgot that he was the epitome of all that was evil in the known universe, which is to say, Earth.

"Oh buggers," muttered Heathcliff, "I gave away my whole plan…"

"You always did that!" nagged Cathy, "You ambition-less vagrant!  I could never have married you!  At least Edgar had money… and he was cute… and he had a big peniston."

"Mine was bigger!  I know it!  You went to Pennistowe Crags thirty times with me for every time you went with him!" snarled Heathcliff, grabbing Cathy's arm as she tried to strike him.

Satan covered his ears, blubbering, "Stop itttttt!  I can't take it anymore… I'm sending you both to Heaven!"

"NO!" shrieked Cathy, wrenching her arm away from Heathcliff.  "Not Heaven!  I know I shall hate it!  They shall cast me out!  I want to be on the moors!"  She fell to sobbing.

"I go whither my Cathy goes!" Heathcliff declared.

"DEAL with it, bastard!" shouted Satan, an expression both he and Heathcliff had picked up from one of the other damned back in the days when they still vocalized their opinions.  "I'm calling God up riiiiiiiight now!  So there!"  He quite nearly stuck his tongue out at them as he swept off to his videoconference room.

God was sending a magnificent thunderstorm over the Midwestern United States when His arch-nemesis called.  He was dancing around Cloud Nine shouting, "Techno techno techno techno techno techno!" as each bolt of lightning illuminated the sky, then faded away.  After nine rings, He finally heard His miniscule cellphone, and whipped it out.  Making a "Blue Steel" face in concentration, He answered rather absently, "God?"

"No, abominable fool.  You are God.  This is Lucifer.  Videoconference.  Now.  Leave the rave ambiance behind."

"Luuuucy!  Smashing to hear from you!  One moment please!"  Frantically, God searched around His little room.  He abruptly stopped the thunderstorm and shoved His Holy Glow-Stick into a drawer.  Running to His Blessed CD Player, he turned off the techno and put on something more widely accepted as God-like… namely Enya.  Composing Himself, He turned on the videoconferencing screen.

"I'm back, Lucy.  And I just want you to know… I forgive you."

"Well, I'm not sorry, and You didn't change out of Your pink pants, God."

"Oops!  Sorry about that!  Hang on, one second!"

"Just forget it, God.  If You can create the world in a day, the Gates of Hell will be flooded with generations of lost souls by the time those pants get changed.  I know how easily You're distracted."

God smile sheepishly, searching his gargantuan brain for a clever comeback.  "Well… well… I know how easily you cry!"

"Shut up, will You?  I have something important to discuss."

"Yes?  I'm all ears."  And so it was.  And God was pleased.

"That's creepy.  Anyway, can I stick You with a couple of my people?"

"Sure, Lucy.  You know I'll do that all the time for you!"

"Sickening, God."

"I do it for the sake of the souls, not you, Lucy," God added kindly.  "Are they truly sorry for whatever it was they did that got them stuck down there?"

Satan squirmed.  "Ummm…. Yeah… suuuure.  They're eaten up by guilt."

"What's the catch?"  God asked suspiciously, "Who are they?"

"Um… can I surprise You?"

"No."

"Oh fine.  It's Heathcliff and Cathy, God.  They're driving me insane."

"What about My sanity?  My sanity matters more!  I control the world, you just ruin it… you're like a big bully that stomps on all my sandcastles!"

"Lovely simile," the Devil drawled sarcastically.

"Thanks," replied God.  "Look, I can't take them if they're not sorry.  Give me someone else.  I know nearly everyone down there eventually will repent.  It's never too late.  There's bound to be someone else!"

"I'm perfectly content with my current lot, except those two."

"Tough cookies, Lucy."

"I have a plan, though.  It will work out best for all involved!  Heathcliff Heathcliff and Catherine Earnshaw-Linton deserve to be punished, no?"

"I hate the idea of punishment," mused God.

"Well… they do deserve it," the wicked Lucifer said, "and there would be no greater punishment for them than to send them to Heaven!  Catherine said so herself!"

"I hate the idea of punishment," God repeated, "and what's more, Heaven is not supposed to be a place of torment… for them or me.  I have a better Plan, you see.  The Master Plan.  Where do they want to be?"

"Together."

"Where specifically?  Give me a location."

"On the moors," sighed the Devil in resignation, "at Wuthering Heights."

"Send them then.  My Will be done."

And so it was.

(Highlight of Your Reading Experience [Ravers Like Highlights!], It's Disclaimer Time: K, let's see… I don't own/distribute Zoolander or the "Blue Steel" look, Enya, the ability to make God a raver, videoconferencing systems, or God's glow stick.  I just might be sending subliminal messages that are telling you to buy pink pants, but you'll never know!)