Today, I asked Claude to write a parody of the John Milton poem Paradise Lost in the irreverent British style of Ricky Gervais, but performed before an American audience, with Donald Trump, of course, in the role of Satan. After a few tweaks, we got this:
So, there’s this dude called God, right? He’s made the universe and everything, but he’s pretty ticked off because his favorite angel, Donald J. Lucy-fer (it’s a tremendous name, really the best), has gone and thrown a yuuuge tantrum. Apparently, Lucy-fer didn’t like God’s new policy of “worship me or else,” calling it “fake news” and a “total witch hunt.”
Well, God’s not having any of that. He kicks Lucy-fer and his gang out of heaven faster than Twitter banning an account. Down they go into this place called Hell – imagine the worst Trump property you’ve ever seen, but on fire. We’re talking “We have the heats.” It’s like someone took Trump Steaks and cranked them up to well-done with ketchup… for eternity.
Now Lucy-fer, who we’re calling Satan because it polls better with evangelicals, is seriously pissed off. He’s thinking, “We’re gonna make Heaven pay for this. It’s gonna be great, folks.” So he slithers up to Earth, not so much auditioning for “Snake’s Got Talent” as hosting “The Apprentice: Garden of Eden Edition.”
Meanwhile, God’s gone all NSA, watching everything on his celestial TV (which, by the way, has the best ratings, just fantastic). He sees Satan coming but does he do anything? Nah, he’s playing 4D chess, apparently. “My son will sort it,” he says. “He’s got the best words.”
Down in Eden, the world’s first gated community with a strict no-clothes policy, Satan finds Eve. Now Eve’s never seen a snake before, let alone one trying to push Trump-brand apples. “Listen, honey, you gotta try this fruit. It’s gonna make Eden great again, believe me.” So she does, and then she gets Adam in on it too – it’s a perfect phone call, really. Suddenly, they realize they’re buck naked and go into a panic like they’ve just found out their tax returns are being audited.
God finds out because of course he does – he’s got angels, the best angels, in the FBI (Fruit Bitten Intelligence). He goes ballistic. “Adam! You’re fired!” Adam, being the first man to throw his wife under the Access Eden bus, replies, “She made me do it! Grab ’em by the apple!” Real presidenti– uh, chivalrous, dude.
So God kicks them out of Eden. No golden parachute, nothing. Just a flaming sword at their backs and a lifetime of “I’m Eve, and I don’t really care, do U?” jackets. Eve’s thinking, “All this for an apple? I thought the Trump Diet was all about McDonald’s.”
The story ends with Adam and Eve wandering off, probably to invent locker room talk and the phrase “I’ll release my medical records when Eden releases its birth certificate.” And God’s up there planning the mother of all redemption arcs involving his son and a bestseller called the Bible – because nothing says “art of the deal” like a flood and some plagues before the big finale.
And that, folks, is Paradise Lost – where the snake talks like he’s at a rally, the humans are dumb as rocks (the best rocks, from Trump Quarries), and God proves he’s got a flair for the theatrical that makes WrestleMania look like community theater. Thank you, and don’t forget to tip your waitress – she’s working for minimum wage in a universe created by an omnipotent being who, I assume, has some good people on both sides.
Peace & Love, and all of the above.
Earl
earlthepearl137 