FROM NOW ON, BUM, YOU DON'T GET THE UNBAPTISED BABES. (And that's how Limbo got created, in case you ever wondered.)
Satan gibbered with rage, which is an absolutely terrifying thing to see unless you happen to be God. After the display had gone on for a while, God got impatient.
ARE YOU FINISHED? IF NOT, I'LL CREATE A BIB TO CATCH THE DROOL.
Satan clamped his jaws shut.
THAT'S BETTER. NOW. WHAT'S THIS ALL ABOUT, ANYWAY?
God already knew what it was all about, of course. He's omniscient. But He gets some kind of weird kick out of acting dumb. (Always been like that. Remember the time, early on, when He was wandering through the Garden of Eden? Silly. A full-grown Supreme Being, acting like a Kid playing tag: "Yoo-hoo! Adam, where are you?")
Before the Devil could open his mouth, Darrow started talking. It was a great closing argument, too.
Then God announced His decision. He found in favor of the defendant on the grounds that while he was guiltier than sin the whole thing tickled the Lord's fancy. But the thief didn't get off scot-free, because God sentenced him to ten years in Purgatory before he would be released back to earth.
"What for?" whined the thief.
BECAUSE YOU'RE AN IDIOT.
Then God smote the Devil with a bolt of lightning. Contempt of court.
Finally, He glowered at Darrow. (Actually, God's immaterial. It was more that the whole Universe took on a sense of all-pervading GLOWER, aimed at Darrow.)
YOU RAT. YOU LOUSE.
The old man was a plucky character, you've got to hand it to him. "What did I do-besides win another defense case?"
THAT'S THE WHOLE POINT, DARROW. AS YOU WELL KNOW. MAN IS GUILTY OF ORIGINAL SIN, SO HOW CAN HE BE INNOCENT? YOUR WHOLE LIFE WAS AN AFFRONT TO ME, AND YOU'RE STILL DOING IT!
Darrow sneered. "So damn me to Hell, then."
God was silent. After all, what could He say? It's the ultimate problem in penal science, when you think about it. How do you punish a lifer who's already dead?
In the end, of course, Darrow caught it from the Devil after God left. Satan was purely furious about the whole affair.
"You're promoted," snarled the Prince of Darkness, and he gave Darrow the premier spot in Hell, on the ninth level. Satan even added a fourth mouth to his clone (which, contrary to Dante, isn't actually the Devil himself) so that Clarence Darrow could join Cassius, Brutus and Judas Iscariot as a chewee.
But Darrow wasn't fazed. Right away he introduced himself to his neighbors.
"Boy, am I glad to see you," said Judas.
"It was temporary insanity!" cried Cassius. "Caused by eating junk food. Shakespeare's my witness. He said himself I had `a lean and hungry look.'"
"I had a warped childhood," whined Brutus. "Too much privilege."
As for the thief, he had ten years to think over the course of his life. Ten long years, because Purgatory is a doctor's waiting room. And he never got any time off for good behavior because he screwed up. (Tried to steal a six-year-old copy of Sports Illustrated. Wasn't even the swimsuit issue.)
But eventually, he served the time, and was materialized back in Loretta's cellar.
And found that the cellar was now the TV room of a very large and muscular truck driver who immediately beat him to a pulp. Partly for trespassing, but mostly because he materialized in front of the TV set in the last ten seconds of the Super Bowl with the go-ahead field goal on its way. The truck driver had four friends with him, too. Raiders fans.
A few days later, when the thief got out of the hospital, he went looking for Loretta. It took him weeks, but eventually he tracked her down to a very fancy house in a very nice part of town.
His tongue was practically hanging out as he rang the doorbell. Ten years' abstinence, you understand.
Loretta was there, all right. She even opened the door wearing her roller derby queen gear, all the way down to the knee and elbow pads. That had him salivating immediately. He'd always loved that outfit! I've got to tell the truth, now that we're getting to the end of the story. That thief was a warped, depraved, degenerate, kinky sicko. The only books he ever bought had covers just like this one.
Alas. She wasn't Loretta Minisci, stripper, would-be witch, anymore. She was still a roller derby queen-the roller derby queen, in fact-but she was also Mrs. Loretta White, Ph.D. (Harvard-summa cum laude, Phi BetaKappa, the whole shot). It turns out that a week after she got back from Hell she met a chemist at the supermarket and while they were chatting in the cashier's line he explained to her that brimstone was just another word for sulfur, which, (hey, what do you know?) he happened to have a lot of in his laboratory and before they even got there she'd fallen in love with the mousy little guy and one thing led to another and ten years later she'd not only earned her Ph.D. in chemistry but had been able to apply her talent for witchcraft to revolutionize the entire science, and, no, she'd love to talk (How have you been, anyway? Still stealing?) but she had to catch a plane for the Olympics where she was going to win the gold medal-she'd gotten the sport internationally recognized just last year, isn't that great?-before she had to catch another plane to Stockholm to accept the Nobel Prize. Bye.
The thief went berserk at that point and tried to force his affections upon her (as they say). But that's really not the best seduction technique to use on a roller derby queen. A few knees and elbows later, Loretta was off to catch her plane and the thief went back into the hospital for a few more days.
Things went downhill from there.
He started thieving again, but the truth is that it's a young man's game and he was over the hill. Ten years out of practice, too. So he got caught. Hubcaps, believe it or not. He tried to steal them off a slow-moving car in the inaugural parade-yeah; Limo One. Sent up for three years. (Would have been way more-assassination attempts get twenty, easy-except the psychiatrist informed the court that the thief didn't know the names of any presidents since Abraham Lincoln led the war of independence against George Washington III.)
After he got out, he lasted on the streets for six weeks before he was sent back to prison. Stealing hubcaps, again. In the pits, at the Daytona 500. Five years. No time off for good behavior because they caught him trying to steal-never mind. You wouldn't believe it.
The next time he got caught he was a three-time loser and so they sent him up for life in the toughest prison in the state. He survived six, count `em, six hours. After finding himself with two cellmates wearing "Aryan Nation" tattoos and reading weird books about women in armor, he got into a religious discussion in which he explained that he had met Satan personally and could assure them that the Devil was a white man.
So there he was, back again, a thief in Hell.
"I want Darrow!" he cried.
But the Devil just laughed at him. "Not this time, chump. You've already been convicted. No trial. No rights. No appeals. And I've been waiting for this day to come."
Satan rubbed his hands together with glee. It sounded like a rattlesnake. "Boy," snickered the Lord of Flies, "have I got plans for you."
And he did, too. Grotesque plans. Horrible plans. Indescribable plans. The worst thing you could imagine.
He made the thief listen to one performance of Wagner's Parsifal (which, of course, lasts for eternity).
It all goes to show the importance in the modern world of getting a formal education.
Although, now that I think about it, maybe it wouldn't have made much difference in the thief's case. Ignorance can be fixed. Stupid is forever.