The Day Satan Came to Court

Funny story written by Brett Taylor

Thursday, 18 October 2018

image for The Day Satan Came to Court
Who could forget the day Satan came to court?

Back in the eighties, every book publisher was searching for the new Stephen King. Of these forgotten pretenders, John Psepsis was surely the most prolific, sometimes churning out a new chiller every month. Of his fellow author, King had this to say: “Gosh wow, Psepsis writes better horror than anyone. Except me, of course. And certainly, I’m a lot richer than him. A whole lot richer. I should know, he’s always hitting me up for money.”

In those days, Psepsis was cranking out a new chiller every month. But his most outstanding tome was the six hundred page epic The Day Satan Came to Court. The novel was based on a timely concept: What if the devil were to be blamed for murder? What if the judge allowed the accused to enter a plea of “Not guilty by demonic possession”? And so without further ado, we present the following excerpt from the chilling John Psepsis masterwork, The Day Satan Came to Court:

The lawyer twirled about with great drama. “Hastur-Stirach, Beelzethoth, enter unto thee! Lord of the Dark Arts, Zarach Tag-Bahl, Baal-Ugh-Bump, Yog-Shoththo-Prosthus, Master of the Flies, I summon thee! I call unto this court—Satan!”

A great puff of smoke enveloped the courtroom. The sound of coughing could be heard as the onlookers struggled to process what was happening. Then, as the smoke died down and the coughing ceased, the participants were astonished by the sight before them. There, in the witness chair, sat a massive figure with enormous black wings.

The court was silent for a very long time. No-one could quite believe what they were seeing. Here, in this courtroom, in the modern skeptical age, a larger-than-life demon straight out of the medieval age had chosen to grace the select members of the court with his presence. Here was living proof of the physical existence of demons, and they’d been chosen by fate to witness it. Finally the prosecutor spoke. “Would you please raise your right claw?”

The voice was strangely calm and yet it beamed through the room with a loud sonic force.

“Satan is left-handed.”

“Ah yes, of course.”

The judge spoke. The witness has asked to take the oath on the book of his choice, since he scoffs at the idea of being bound to the ideals expressed in the Holy Bible.” Satan nodded in approval. His black eyebrows seemed to be knitted together in a look of intense concentration, as though pointing towards some dark unspoken goal.

“Therefore,” the judge said, “Satan will be swearing on a copy of The Satanic Bible.”

The dark infernal demon attempted to place his hand upon the book, but his claws were so long they blocked his access. Instead, he gripped the book with a menacing clutching gesture, the tips of his fingers barely touching the book. The bailiff spoke: “Do you solemnly swear upon all that is dark and unholy to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”

“I swear.”

“Very well,” the judge spoke. You may proceed. The district attorney began his questioning. “Are you the one called Mephistopheles, lord of this world, father of lies?”

“Satan is called by many names.”

“Can you name a few of them?”

“They call me the Maker of Sins, father of Lilith, the Fallen Angel, the Evil One, the One and Only Original Demon. But I prefer to be called…Steve.”

“How about we call you what you are. Satan.”

“As you wish.”

“Is the witness aware that a murder has been alleged?”

“Satan is aware.”

“Are you also aware that some people are blaming this murder on his work?”

“Satan is aware.”

“Objection, your honor!” The other lawyer spoke. “We’re not here to determine what some people think.”

“Sustained. The prosecutor will confine himself to the facts of the case.”

“Very well. Here’s a fact. On December 4th, 1984, Joey Gonzalez murdered his wife in a most brutal fashion.”

“If you say so. Satan has better things to do than pay attention to every single murder that comes along.”

“May I ask, what were you doing that day?”

“It’s hard to say. Satan has so many daily activities. He could have been tempting an old lady to pinch a baby’s cheek. He could have been putting lustful thoughts into the mind of a humble parish priest. He could have been sowing unrest in the Middle East. The work of an archdemon is varied and multifarious.”

“So, then, you can’t be sure you weren’t possessing Joey Gonzalez to commit murder, can you?”

“Why, I…I don’t know. I mean…How dare you! You dare to confound Satan with your tricky logic? Satan is the inventor of tricky logic!”

“Answer the question, will you? You can’t be sure what foul deeds you were up to that day, can you? For all you know it probably was you!”

“I object, your honor! The state is attempting to lead the witness! How can he confess to something he knows nothing about! Why, you might as well pin it on one of the jurors!”


The prosecutor was unflappable in the face of Satanic adversity. “Your honor, I ask permission to treat this…creature as a hostile witness.” Satan laughed. A scoffing, mocking laugh. “That’s right, Satan. Laugh if you will. Furthermore, I hereby vow that today I shall exorcise and expunge your foul evil from this courthouse forever!”

“Jack, stop it! Do you realize what you’re doing?” The desperate plea came from the assistant prosecutor. Clearly he was terrified of what might happen when Satan unleashed his wrath on the courtroom. And, indeed,

Satan was clearly indignant. His voice roared out at them: “Fools! Do you know what day it is?” The lawyers and the judge glanced at one another, unsure what their feisty witness was getting at. “Fools!” he said again. “Today is the first day of the winter solstice! The day when Satan’s powers are at their peak!”

The sunlight through the windows suddenly disappeared, causing the courtroom to dim. Outside, the sun was hidden by a sudden eclipse. Then, as if all this chaos weren’t enough, a cloud of locusts descended on the cement streets and sidewalks. It was as if the sleepy little town had gone back in time to the medieval era.

“Sheesh,” the assistant prosecutor declared. “This Satan fellow is one tough cookie.”

The funny story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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