I, Lucifer by Glen Duncan

Author:Glen Duncan [Duncan, Glen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General, Fiction, Psychological, Christian, Literary, Psychological Fiction, Devil, London (England), Screenwriters, Demoniac Possession
ISBN: 9780802140142
Publisher: Grove Press
Published: 1976-01-02T07:00:00+00:00

`Shouldn't you be out murdering people?'

`I beg your pardon?'

'If you're the Devil, I mean. Shouldn't you be a bit, you know, busier?'

`I am busy,' I said. It was three in the morning and I was with Harriet in the Rolls on our way from a very private party in Russell Square to a very private party in Mayfair. We passed a cinema hoarding that said Little Voice. I lit another Silk Cut. `I am busy, for Heaven's sake. Have you any idea how much of the script I've already got down? That Pilate scene is going to have them dancing in the aisles.'

`What I mean is,' Harriet said, sipping, `shouldn't you be a bit more hands-on in the criminal department? "A murderer from the first", or whatever, isn't it? I'd've thought New Scotland Yard's finest would've been picking their way through a litter of corpses by now.'

It's hard not to like Harriet. She's so bored and so mad and so bad. She's such a piece of work. It makes sense to like her, too: if you're alive in the Western world at the moment, something you buy probably puts money into Harriet's pocket, and there's no sense in putting money into the pockets of those you dislike, is there? Multinational Parent Companies (one of which boasts Harriet Marsh among its senior executives) were my invention. (But do you see me clamouring for credit for the idea? Do you hear me boasting?) The beauty of the concept is that it takes the wind out of so many would-be ethical sails: the company that owns the porn-mag owns the company that makes the washing powder. The company that owns the munitions plants owns the company that makes the budgerigar food. The company that owns the nuclear waste owns the company that picks up your trash. These days, thanks to me, unless you pack up and go and live in a cave, you're putting money into evil and shit. And let's be realistic, if the cost of ethics is life in a cave ...

`I'll tell you something, Harriet,' I said, pouring myself another, `I've always objected to that nonsense about me being a murderer. It's nothing but a bare-faced lie.'

`I think Jack's right, you know. You should have a show. After the film. After the Oscars.'

Little Voice, apparently, was on everywhere. I suppose He thinks that's funny. I suppose He thinks that's droll.

"`... [A] murderer from the beginning ..." says Jesus in John 8:44,' I said, topping up, as the National Gallery loomed up on our left. `Moreover, a murderer who ... abode not in the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he speaketh a lie he speaketh of his own: for he is a liar, and the father of it." Charming. And, I might add, a pack of lies. Who, exactly, am I supposed to have murdered?'

Harriet, averting her cadaverous face so that her breath fogged the Rolls's tinted pane, undid my flies and groped, with a sigh of weariness, for my cock.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.