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Satan, the fallen angel who rules the underworld, is often out crusading
for evil, buying souls, and that sort of thing. In his absence, a far
lesser being rules hell. That being is Satin. Few living persons have
ever known of Satin. He's a freak, a weirdo, not the type of guy you'd
put in charge of vast agony. In fact, he's a little effeminate. His high-
pitched voice isn't what most expect. And, when the living did hear or
read of his
name, most just assumed that someone didn't know how to spell and were
trying to write "Satan." So, up you amble to Satin, blood gushing from your head because you hit a rock when you tried to fly out of hell. How you flapped your arms that hard is unknown, but we'll skip that. The conversation goes something like this: Satin: "Ewww, you bumped your iddy bitty head, now, did you?" A demon nearby rolls his eyes and heaves a great heave. "Are you hurting, werting?" continues Satin. You: "EAAAAAAAA Yes. IT HURTS SO BAD." Satin: "Well, here in hell we have a saying: Burn forever. That means we can't have you bleeding everywhere and oh! did you see what you did to the carpet? Bad! Bad! Bad!" You: "Is there ANYTHING you can do?" Satin: "Anything?" At this point you realize that bleeding may be better than any option he has to give you.
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