No sympathy for the Devil

Not many people know this, but I have actually MET Satan in person. I was outside one day and this old flamey dude and his Injun sidekick come sashaying up, reeking of sulphur and green teeth.

“DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM??”

“Ummm…Elton John?”

“NOOOOOOOOO!”

“The Pope?”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

“Can you give me a hint?”

“I AM THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS!!!”

“Oh, sure. Ozzy Osborne. I recognize you now.”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.”

“One more hint?”

He pulls out this huge, pulsing barbed member and slaps it on the table. “HOW WOULD YOU LIKE THIS SLAPPING AT YOUR BACKSIDE FOR ETERNITY?!?!?!?”

“HA! OK, I got it. You are Gene Simmons!”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.”

“Pee Wee Herman, Angela Merkel, Biggus Dickus?”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO​OOOOO.”

“Wait…did you ever lose a golden fiddle to a kid named Johnny?”

“YESSSSSSS.”

“Rode a tank, held a General's rank while the Blitskrieg raged and the bodies stank?”

“YESSSSSSSSSSSSS.”

“Pleased to meet you. I didn't get your name. But what's puzzling me is the nature of your game.”

“I AM SATAN! THE GRIM REAPER AND I HAVE COME FOR YOUR SOUL.”

“Oh. You are Latter Day Saints.”
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