I Should’ve Killed Satan

Who turned the light on? Darnit can’t anyone let a soul sleep?

I roll over and pull my shirt over my face.

Man, my bed has gotten really uncomfortable. And where’s my pillow? Dangit what now?

I sit up and look around. The white so bright and blinding and infinite and boring. There’s nothing fun or interesting about whiteness. It’s just there.

Does this have to do with trying to kill God? I wonder vaguely.

I can’t help it he tried to drag me away from the fight. I was winning that freaking thing.

I get to my feet and look at myself. I’m wearing the lower levels of military fatigues. The short sleeve tan shirt, digital camoflauge pants, boots. Is he taunting me?

I notice some black in the infinte whiteness. Infinite whiteness, I feel some cruel humor going on. Isn't it supposed to be infinite blackness? I reach down and grope around for the edge of the paper on the floor. I can't see the edge because it's just a white as the floor.

Is it the floor? I feel like I'm rightside up but I'm looking down...

I stand straight and find that the paper now appears to be floating on some wall infront of me. So physics isn't working. Go figure.

I lean in closer and squint at the paper. The room suddenly gets darker and shadowy.

"You've got to be freaking kidding me," I grumble as the words become illegible. Several seconds later it lightens back up and I hear some thundering. There's a bright flash of yellow light for a fraction of a second. Lightning.

I lean in and read the paper.

"You have been banned from existance."

"Whelp, that's my luck," I sit on the 'ground' and cross my legs.

"If you let me kill the guy I wouldn't have tried to kill you you know!" I scream into the emptiness. "Then you sent me to Satan and he pissed me off so I tore that ugly horn off his head and stabbed him with it!" I smirk at the memory. His red face went deathly pale.

"That's why I'm here ain't it?" I yell, "'Cause not even Satan would take me?" Another lightning blast. I realize my hair is on-end. As if someone rubbed a balloon over my head.

"If you let me finish it I'll do whatever you want me to! I'll even sit up here in this joke if you want. Just let me finish!"

The whiteness infront of me dissapears and I am looking at the bright blue sky and then the green of the ground. But it is shrouded in greyness and storms. It's raining. More lightning.

"Uh, wrong part of the world God." The cloud closes. I realize I'm moist.

"This is a joke, isn't it? 'Cause I'm not laughing." I sit down.

"I'm not moving until you take me back."

But now the storm is over. And he is no longer.