Here I am, sitting on a park bench somewhere in New York City. In the eyes of the world, a tall, good-looking young Black man clad in a red silk, silver tie and dark grey pants is gazing at the world from this bench. It's a bright sunny day in early summer and a lot of people are enjoying the pleasant weather. All kinds of people. That's part of what I love about New York City. You can find everybody there. None of these nice people can tell that it's really me, Lucifer Morningstar, in one of my many disguises, staring at them. I've always loved parks. Something about them reminds me of, well, home. It's not often that I get to relax. I'm quite busy.
I've been overworking overtime lately. All those clashes between Christians, Jews and Muslims in places like Nigeria, Egypt, Ethiopia, Lebanon, Israel, Sudan and even the City of Dearborn, Michigan. Yeah, there's been a lot of religious strife lately. And they don't just happen by themselves you know. Human beings are born with an infinite capacity for wickedness but quite often, I give them that extra push they need to really rev up their engines. I can't stop laughing as I think of the three Great Houses of God at war with one another. The same cosmic entity spoke to the patriarchs of Judaism, Christianity and Islam. And He always spoke of peace, love and unity. Unfortunately, men twisted God's Word to suit their politics. And the result is endless war across the globe. Makes my job easier.
I could tell you about the Afghan father in whose mind I whispered last night. This morning, he went to his twenty-year-old daughter's bedroom and smothered her because he suspected her of dishonoring her conservative Muslim family by dating the Irish guy next door. Tonight, the denizens of this small Texan town will be shocked. One of them will feel inspired to torch a certain mosque in one of Texas biggest cities. And once more, Christians and Muslims will be at each other's throat. In nearby California, a nice Jewish lad named Henry will introduce his doting mother Abigail to his Asian-American girlfriend Monica Chang. Abigail has been concerned about the recent decline of the Jewish community due to intermarrying and her reaction to Monica and Henry's relationship will positively doom their love. Poor Monica will go home in tears, and the following night she'll drink and drive. It will be the last thing she ever does. Well, next to last thing. For you see, she'll run down a pair of unsuspecting cyclists and poor Henry will kill himself as a result. Tragedy begets tragedy.
My Angels are out there, and they're immensely dedicated to their work. In the eyes of the world, they're ordinary men and women. One of them is whispering dark thoughts into the mind of the supreme religious leader of the Islamic Republic of Iran. Hmmm. If the Israelis knew what the old Iranian man dreamed of, they wouldn't sleep at night. Marduk is one of my favorite Angels. Tall, bronze-skinned, black-haired and dark-eyed. He appears to be a cabinet member in the Iranian government. In truth, he serves me. Still, he isn't half as talented as the Angel once worshiped by primitive Arabs as the goddess Astarte. These days, she's nothing short of my most efficient operative.
