Satan: I see you pacing back and forth over there. What's the problem?

Tom: Dude, it's such a stupid problem that I don't even know if I want to talk about it.

Satan: Well you're never going to figure it out by pacing.

Tom: I'm pissed about cleaning up my house. I like things a bit neater than Kendra and our apartment is almost always dirtier than I'd like it to be.

Satan: Have you guys talked about it?

Tom: Yes several times, and I don't feel like a satisfactory compromise has ever been reached.

Satan: If you had your way, what would happen?

Tom: Well for starters Kendra would have cleaned out the catbox like she said she would. This disturbs me because when I was at her parents' house last weekend I saw them ask her to clean up some empty cans in the basement and she seemed to ignore them. It seemed odd to me that they would even ask her that- wait, I don't think they asked, I think they told her.

Satan: And let me guess- you don't want to be a parental figure to her?

Tom: Correct. I just want my apartment to look how it would look if I lived alone. Of course I realize that's impossible, but as I said I don't think a fair compromise has been reached. As it stands, we're both unhappy- I get pissed off about the cleaning, and she's afraid of coming home to find me in a bad mood because of the cleaning.

Satan: I think you need to make it clear to her just how important this is to you.

Tom: It's extremely important to me. I feel like I've lost control over a part of my life, and as I've attempted to address the issue I feel like a bitchy neat freak. I'm afraid of this happening with other issues that arise.

Satan: Well, to be perfectly frank I think you need to be patient and prepared to let things go from time to time, and she needs to decide if this is important enough to make a few changes in her living habits. That's what this boils down to- both of you have to make a few changes. And in the long run these aren't big changes- it's not like you hate the way she dresses or she hates the way you laughs. The things you need to change aren't that big of a deal- changing them is. Even though this may be something you're both willing to change, thus far you're the only one who's made any changes. The nature of this type of quandry dictates that the person who likes it cleaner always loses. That's not fair, so you're upset. And this isn't the sort of thing that gets fixed in a day. What you need to know is that more often than not you're going to come home to a clean house, and she needs to know that you're not going to be suddenly angry with her and make her feel like a slob. But to establish that, I think you guys need to talk this out some more decide how important it is to each of you, lay some ground rules, and stick to them over a period of time.

Tom: Sounds good to me.

Satan: Yeah well it takes two to tango. And Kendra's not going to be up for another hour or two.

Tom: What should I do?

Satan: Eat something, clean the catbox, jerk off, play some video games, and go for a walk. Later, when she's awake and you guys have already talked about other things, bring it up calmly and gently.

Tom: Where's the part where we fuck like crazed weasels?

Satan: Um, I don't think you need any advice about that.

Tom: Ha-ha! Bitch.

Tom: Hi.

Satan: Well hello there.

Tom: Guess what?

Satan: Um, what?

Tom: I don't have anything to complain about.

Satan: Hahahaha! Ahahahaha!

Tom: Fuck you.

Satan: Ahahahahaha! Hahahahaha!

Tom:

Satan: Hahahahahahahaha! Oh... ahahahahaha!!!

Tom: ARE YOU FUCKING FINISHED?

Satan: Ahahaha!!! Hoo boy... Nothing to complain about? You?

Tom: I just looked at that last post. All of that shit's changed.

Satan: Is that so?

Tom: Yeah. Kendra and I moved out, she's not stressed about school (at the moment), and my stepdad had surgery to remove the tumor.

Satan: That was all my doing, you know.

Tom: I know. I also know better than to get too comfortable.

Satan: Eh, I wouldn't worry about it. That's the deal with you humans. You complain about everything and in the rare moments when you're actually content you can't help incessantly worrying about the next undesirable thing that may be coming your way.

Tom: Shit man, give us a break. It's not like any of us have ever done this "living" thing before, you smug, pointy-tailed fuck. Seems to me that most people are taught that feeling good is bad, what Wilhelm Reich called "pleasure anxiety".

Satan: What's the solution, doctor?

Tom: I dunno. Read a book. Chill out. Realize you're going to die one day and try not to get too stressed out about it. Don't be a dick.

Satan: Nice.

Tom: I guess it works better in theory than in practice. I can't help but think that the psycho-social development of humans throughout history mirrors that of the individual.

Satan: Are you suggesting that mankind is still in some sort of asshole junior high school phase?

Tom: More like some psychotic junior high school phase. Then again, maybe that's who we are.

Satan: Jeez, and Christians think I'm an asshole...

Tom: Hey.

Satan: Hey, what's up?

Tom: My living situation sucks and my girlfriend has been tired and stressed out for the past two weeks and I fear that she doesn't want me as much as I want her. And my stepdad has a big tumor in the roof of his mouth. It's taking an enormous emotional toll on him and my mom.

Satan: Well, let's start with the girlfriend. Are you afraid she's not telling you something?

Tom: Sort of. She's a lot quieter than I am in these matters.

Satan: What are you going to do?

Tom: About what?

Satan: Um... the living situation.

Tom: Well, all I can do right now is save up money to move out.

Satan: Are you doing that?

Tom: Yes. Not as much as I'd like.

Satan: You and Kendra are supposed to move out together?

Tom: We're not "supposed" to do anything.

Satan: Sorry. You've been talking about moving out together?

Tom: Yes.

Satan: You know she's really stressed out from school. You remember that, right?

Tom: Yes.

Satan: So your living situation, your love life, and your family's health kinda suck right now.

Tom: Yep.

Satan:

Tom:

Satan: I got nothin'.

Tom: Me neither.

Satan: What would your ideal circumstances be right now?

Tom: Kendra would be refreshed and completely horny for me, so much so that I'd wake up to her molesting me, I'd have a spare thousand dollars in the bank, and my roommate Jonathan will have sold all of the puppies that are keeping me up at night, shrieking because they're locked in a cramped utility closet. Every rotten motherfucker in this town with a bad attitude would disappear, and my stepdad wouldn't have a large tumor in his mouth.

Satan: That's a tall order.

Tom: No shit Sherlock.

Satan: I'll see what I can do.

Tom:

Satan:

Tom: Really?

Satan: Yeah, hold on a sec.

Tom: (waiting)

Satan: Okay. It's a done deal.

Tom: Thank you Satan.

Satan: Any time.

Tom: Hi there.

Satan: Hi.

Tom: How ya doin buddy?

Satan: Oh pretty good.

Tom: Been keeping yourself occupied all this time?

Satan: Very funny.

Tom: Why?

Satan: You know the the word "time" means nothing to me.

Tom: Jesus Christ, you diabolical screwhead, I'm just making conversation.

Satan: Oh, just can it you twinky, and tell me what's on your mind.

Tom: Nothing really. I just read an excellent biography of William James Sidis by Amy Wallace called "The Prodigy". It's totally renewed my interest in intellectual pursuits.

Satan: Are you saying you've been on an intellectual hiatus?

Tom: Of course not. It's just that now, since I've graduated, I've got more time to devote to, well, whatever I want. I picked up an Arabic grammar book, "501 Spanish Verbs", and two Mensa puzzle books.

Satan: Mensa puzzle books? You know you'll eventually get bored with those puzzle books and take them back without having read more than a few pages of either of them, and you'll feel like a failure.

Tom: But I want to get in to Mensa.

Satan: Why on earth would you waste time doing that?

Tom: Well, partly for the possibility of meeting other pretentious intellectuals, but mostly just to piss Ray off. I mean, once you're in, you're in for life. You pay your dues and they give you a smart card. I'd love to be able to whip that baby out in an argument and shut everyone up.

Satan: You know it's all a scam, right?

Tom: What do you mean?

Satan: The whole Mensa thing. Let's put it into context: A group of people get together and say, "We're going to start a smart club." Who wouldn't want to be in a smart club? And who determines who's smart enough to be in their little club? They do. Right there, they've got you. Either you pass their little entrance exam and conform to the intellectual herd, or you take a stand and say "I know that intelligence is too varied a thing to be measured with standardized tests, nor does any existing intelligence test measure creativity, emotional maturity, or drive. Therefore I will not subject myself to your club's critique." Either way, you lose.

Tom: You know, I totally agree with you, but I can't shake the sneaking suspicion that if they offered you a membership, you'd join in a heartbeat. Just to get a smart card. Basically you're just jealous cuz they wouldn't let you in. I saw your test results.

Satan: You're so right. And I hate you.

Tom: Just one question: How could the all-knowing Prince of Darkness fail the entrance exam to Mensa?

Satan: I'm not talking to you any more today.