The Time I Met Satan

Yep, that’s right, one time I met Satan (or at least that’s what he told me his name was.) Where do you think it was? Prowling in the darkness of the wilderness? Maliciously wandering around the ruins of some ancient Pagan temple? Well, if either of those options did spring instantly into your mind, you’d have been wrong. Satan was actually strolling through the streets of Bath on one sunny afternoon when I was visiting there with my friends one day a few years ago.

Now, Bath is well known for its rather diverse range of street performers; you’ll find people playing music, human statues and even grown men wrestling in their underwear. Satan was one of these street performers, or rather, disguised as one of them as part of his diabolical plans. But before I describe how exactly he and I met, let me describe a little how he looked. Satan was surprisingly tall, he was much taller than me and I am already roughly six foot five, his skin was red and he had horns and a goatee, and he wore long robes and a cape.

I don’t mean to use my blog as a celebrity gossip page, but Satan sure was a rather audacious street performer. I spotted him walking around the streets, and at about the same time he seemed to spot me. He then proceeded to approach me, we looked each other in the face and he said, in a rather rasping voice, “I am Satan” and then he proceeded to hug me (by hug, I mean engulf me in his cape so that I was completely hidden from the sun. I don’t know why, but it was probably so that he could eat my soul or something).

Once he had finished, I thanked him for his performance, and gave him a pound for his troubles. Then, off he went, to continue his evil eternal wanderings across the surface of the Earth…

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