any demons who are somewhat female?”
“There’s the Lamia, but she eats everyone who tries to talk to her. Empusa was just up here though and, as long as you don’t mind that her legs don’t match, she’s very feminine.”
“Great,” Satan said. “Mary, Empusa is going to be your Hell Coach and get you up to speed. I’d help but I think I have to go to court soon.”
“Tomorrow,” Nero said.
“Who’s my lawyer?”
“Me, sir. We couldn’t afford to hire a lawyer and keep the lights on. But I’ve got a whole shelf of John Grisham novels and I’ve already finished four of them. I think I can do this.”
“Really?”
“No,” Nero said. “Grisham makes it sound easy but there must be a reason lawyers go to school for years before trying a case.”
“It’s okay,” Satan said, clapping his hands and attempting to inject some hope into the situation. “I’ve had time to think and I know that right is on our side. They can’t just take over Hell. It’s...it’s wrong. We’re going to pull this off. I know it. I mean, how bad could this trial be?”
“It could be really bad,” Nero said.
“Come on, Nero,” Satan said.
“Really, really bad.”
“Lighten up.”
“Really, really, really bad. And awful. And bad, too.”
Carson City, Nevada.
The venue for the trial of the century had been carefully selected by Ted Hunter’s legal team. Nevada had the highest crime rate in the country, the highest percentage of teen pregnancies, the highest unemployment rate. It was tied with Rhode Island for the worst state economy in America, it had the highest foreclosure rate in North America, the worst public school system and a governor who was being sued for sexual assault.
“If anyone in this great land of ours is sick and tired of evil,” Ted Hunter told Nancy Grace. “It is the good citizens of the Sagebrush State.”
And now, on the day jury selection was to begin, Carson City was ready to explode. Its population had doubled and then tripled as a massive influx of humanity surged into town, attracted by the gravitational pull of the trial of the century. Theologians looking to power up their ministries, congregations who were looking to take a stand against evil, professional protesters who couldn’t resist an opportunity to attend the greatest protest in human history, disbelieving philosophy professors from Northeastern universities who just had to see it for themselves, hack magazine writers, heavy metal fans, Hollywood producers and angry parents. Tea Partiers who were convinced that Satan would look like Obama, Muslims who were convinced that Satan would look like an Israeli, and Israelis who didn’t believe in Satan but who were convinced that if he did exist he’d look like a Palestinian. Power preachers from the AME Church, tattooed lay leaders from the UUs, hip hop rabbis from Southern California, fiery Baptists from Mississippi, not-so-fiery Presbyterians from West Virginia, stuffy Episcopalians from Massachusetts, disbelieving Baha’i from Portland, every cult leader, get-rich-quick prosperity minister and the leader of every single congregation that could raise the bus fare were there.
Carson City’s motto was “Proud of its past, confident of its future,” and although the average Carson City resident didn’t know squat about their past, right this minute they were confident that if they had a spare room, a back yard, a sofa bed, a rundown school bus or even an RV in the driveway the future would bring piles of cash from renting them out to the tourists at extortionate prices. CNBC, Reuters, the AP, CNN, Al Jazeera, Fox and even the Christian Broadcasting Network had all sent their star correspondents, their best camera crews, their hungriest producers.
By the time the morning of jury selection rolled around the parking lot of the courthouse was a mosh pit of cameras, microphones, make-up men, anchorwomen and stand-up correspondents. Tiny tents were pitched for live commentators, platforms erected for panels of experts who would comment on the commentators, a water buffalo was parked in the handicapped parking space by the sheriff who anticipated that about half of these idiots had never been in the desert before and would pass out from heat stroke before noon, and a Red Cross blood bank was pulled up next to it. The Red Cross hoped that seeing Satan might inspire virtuous deeds in the crowd since blood donations were at an all-time low.
Across from the courthouse, the empty lot on the corner of North Pratt Street had been converted into “Freedom of Expression Plaza.” This was a fancy term for what was