(no subject)

[toothycat]

Original here.

"No-one's allowed in."
"But I have important business!"
"Everyone has business."
"At least go tell him He has come."
"He with a capital 'H'?"
"Yes."
"I'm not going. I was told he was not to be disturbed."
"Let him in!", the Prophet, fed up of the noise by the entrance, shouted. The curtain moved aside and his visitor entered the tent.
"Hello."
"Well, then, come in, unclean one."
The visitor raised his eyebrows in surprise, examined himself, smelt an armpit and asked in a hurt tone:
"Why unclean?"
"In a metaphysical sense", the Prophet grunted. "Very well, come in, Satan. You prefer that?"
"I think you are confusing me with someone", the visitor muttered worriedly.
"Oh, yeah? So what are you, then?"
"I am a demiurge."
The Prophet laughed.
"And what, then, is your name, pray tell?"
"Shambambukli..."
"Gotcha!" The Prophet grinned happily. "Everyone knows that the name of our demiurge is Churmbembdaktchi. He told me so himself."
"I said no such thing!" Shambambukli cried indignantly.
"Naturally! You, spawn of hell, naturally cannot pronounce this name. Why don't you try?"
"I will so! Churem... hang on a minute... what was it you said? Chermendak... No, Churembendak... duk... dakt..."
"Aha - you can't do it!"
"What utter tosh!" Shambambukli shook his head. "Why should I repeat gibberish? I'm the demiurge!"
"Of course, it is your nature to say that. You are Satan, the great tempter. But you will not fool me."
"I am not trying to fool you!"
"But of course." The Prophet's smile became undisguisedly mocking. Shambambukli pouted.
"I'm the demiurge."
"Oh, cut it out already." The Prophet waved him silent. "As though I've not seen the demiurge! He came to me in a dream, mighty and beautiful, his voice like a ringing bell, and on his head a golden crown..."
"Don't go blaming me for your weird dreams."
"It was a prophecy!" The Prophet frowned.
"I can put on a golden crown if it's that important to you."
"Too late."
Shambambukli sighed.
"Fine. Whatever you call me - perhaps you'll at least listen to what I have to say to you."
"Nope." The Prophet shook his head. "I won't even think of it. I have no tolerance for your lies."

"Then why did you let me in?"
"Purely to mock you."
"Very well, then, mock me, but hear me out first."
"I'll mock you all right, but I'll not hear you."
"Come to your senses already!" Shambambukli shouted. "Don't you realise yourself that burning children in ovens is immoral?"
"Getting to you, is it?" The Prophet laughed, staring at Shambambukli's angry red face. "Don't you like it, Satan?"
"No, I don't like it! And don't say it was me that told you to do it, or whoever your god is supposed to be. No god in his right mind would order such a thing!"
"Speak, speak, I'm not listening to you. I spit on you, Satan."
"Why the devil do you keep calling me Satan?! What's with that?"
"Satan," the Prophet replied calmly, "is the evil destructive force that tempts man. Since you are tempting me - you are Satan."
"I did not create such a force," Shambambukli shook his head slowly. "Of course, it is very convenient, to shift your blame on a Satan... but believe me, no-one tempts man. He manages perfectly well on his own."
"You bore me," the Prophet waved him silent and shouted: "Guards!"
A muscular leather-clad guardsman entered the tent. An eellike secretary with a feather behind one ear slid in after him.
""Whom?"
"This one here." The Prophet pointed at Shambambukli.
"Chop his head off, or what?"
Shambambukli clutched his throat, where two fresh scars could already be seen.
"No," the Prophet replied after a second's thought. "This time, I think, a drowning."
The guard dargged Shambambukli out of the tent.
"Fourth one this month", the secretary noted, making a mark on the papyrus.
"It's the same one", the Prophet responded.
"And he just won't give up!" the secretary said with a note of respect in his voice.
"We'll make him give up yet", the Prophet assured him. "We are in the right here. God is on our side."