Strange to meet you

The post has no beginning. Don't bother imagining one.
Satan: Now I make friends few and far between, but I make them my own. With that big picture, with that big picture, I tell you Mr. Director, Direct, don't try to act. Don't try and act. Sigh.

Don't you understand the quality of these words uttered with my voice on your stage?

You are nothing without me and plausibly the converse about our relationship with each other.

Now the trick behind my question in saying this, is go ahead, direct me. I implore you, no in fact I challenge you, to direct me, give this boat out there in the storm, some direction.

(to servant boy) Boy, give the man a compass. (boy hands director a compass) Yes, directions?

God: South by south west. 5 degrees north and a bit to the right.

(Satan moves to the indicated spot on the stage).

There now we go, now you say your line. (very crisp and proper) "Storm is over".

Satan: But what is my motivation? What am I feeling?

God (irritated): You are feeling love.

Satan: My position?

God (pleased): Doggy style.

Satan: Use me. I am a medium too of your immense expression, of your power, your energy. What is this shit? Are you kidding me?

God: Perhaps, it's a strange possibility. Ok. I'll go with it. Read that into the lines.

Satan: Which lines?

God: "Use me. I am a medium too of your immense expression, of your power, your energy. What is this shit? Are you kidding me?"

Satan: Really? Oh!

God: Precisely. Now who came up with that idea?

Satan: We did? How nice to know that.

God: Yes very nice. Now let's breath some sanity into this piece. Shall we?

Satan: That would be very nice too.

God: All right. Actor, out with your real name. Don't be a stranger. It's not just Actor, is it? It could be interesting!

Satan: No not "Actor" don't submit to vanity. Vanity is my domain. Sanity is yours! You can call me Satan.

God: Pleased to meet you Satan. And what part are you auditioning for today?

Satan: The part of an Actor.

God: Which one would it be?

Satan: I don't know. The script writer knows. He is my friend.

God: But surely you must know the name of the characters or at least the name of the play perhaps?

Satan: I forgot them next to the cigarette that was burning in the ashtray, yes that's where I forgot them. Sorry, No.

God: Now come don't be playful.

Satan: I remember there were two characters. This shit is real? You're really filming this?

God: I see several cameras whizzing around like planets on a universal stage. Don't you?

Satan: Wow. A real screen test. My mama would have been so proud. Fuck! I can't remember the name of my mama. This is bad.

(pause)

This is such a nice combination of the creative energies of theater, stage, audience, camera, film, editing technology, biotechnology, astrophysics, and religion. Quite intense. This script writing thing! What? Now I'm supposed to be a scriptwriter?

God: No. A secretly diseased schizophrenic actor, who is auditioning for the part of an actor playing a part in a script written by the Director in which the name of the actor happens to be Satan?

Satan: And you're the director? And I'm the actor? Are we sure of that?

God: Actually, I don't know. It's an interesting possibility. Now read that into the lines, please.

Satan: Are we sentient beings?

God: (sarcastically) No, we are energy. Now the lines?

Satan: What lines?

God: The ones next to the dot's.

Satan (puzzled): Are they vertical?

God (highly ammused): No.

Satan: Horizontal then?

God: (almost laughing): No.

Satan: Then?

God: Verbal. They are in that book you've been holding for so long.

Satan: Oh so this book is the script.

God: Yes and you wrote it.

Satan: Eh?

God: Yes. Oh so now I've become a writer at this moment.

Satan: Yes, you or me?

God: Does it matter? What's your reading of it?