The Devil looked up from the Sunday paper and sighed. As always, he was stylishly dressed in an impeccably tailored suit, and had his hair slicked back from his ridiculously handsome face.
“Angels don’t have fathers,” Lucifer answered curtly. “I suppose my former employer would want me to say that He was my father since He created me and the rest of those halo polishing, harp playing sycophants who hang out with Him in Heaven, but I’d never say that.”
“Sounds like someone has serious Daddy issues,” I countered with a chuckle.
The Prince of Darkness glared at me angrily, and for a moment I thought I was going to soil myself, but then he flashed a devilish grin.
“Young ladies with…
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