Partytime, Whahooo, Part 1: First Evening - The moment the soldier yanked out his spear, which he had so rudely

thrust in, from the prisoner's side, as the Blood and the water spurted out separately, a resounding cheer erupted from the surrounding crowd of devils.

Jesus Christ was dead.

And not only that, it was finally partytime.  After some 4,000 years, with hardly a break, satan had been working them about non-stop... well, some devils more than others.  But now, that Jesus was finally off their scales, it was as if satan had declared a day of rest - maybe, just maybe, even a few days of leisure.

Wow, what a feeling!

For the first time, since their defeat - and immediate expulsion from heaven - the devils had found themselves free to roam about.  But that wasn't the half of it.  For the first time, not having that awful dread of the coming wrath of God, nipping 24/7/365.25 at their tails.

Jesus Christ was dead.

He would not be coming back, riding a horse, wielding a sword, casting the rebels into the pit.  And neither would any of those smelly clay pottys be given any cities to rule, nor crowns to cast at Christ's pierced feet.

For the first time since the rebellion - that didn't end well, of course - MousePellet had some freedom.  Was a bit shocking, and yet a bit scary, to be allowed to just up and seek a different host-body - one of one's own choosing.  And one who wasn't anything like the spoiled, ever peevish, dough-faced senator's brat.

Ugh!  Having been stuck in that kid's flabby frame, had been a non-stop miserable, and oftentimes humiliating experience.   The little wussie was no fun - ever!  He didn't fuss with his sister, he didn't roughhouse with any of his brothers - and knock over lamps and vases, nor did he trouble any of the servants.  Neither was the early teen into stealing, cursing or making fun of homeless people.

Nope.  None of that.  The kid's all consuming sin (against the Most High God) was pizza.  Pizza, pizza, and more pizza.  

MousePellet hated pizza - especially pepperoni, which was the kid's favorite - with a passion.  Nor did Pellet care for the kid's 2nd favorite food, ham-n-cheese boli.  Just monotonous.  Everyday the kid sat on his flabby bottom, feeding his face.  And forget about his table manners, just atrocious. 

The last soul, Pellet had been stuck with - and was now screaming non-stop in the black flames of hell - had been a similar load of doughy vapors.  That one, the son of a prominent egyptian magician, had a non-stop passion for jelly donuts.  The host before duke-donuts ... whadda sissy! 

One embarrassment after another, while the other devils somehow managed to possess princes, 1st rate call girls, gladiators, mob bosses...the cool people.  In short, it was as if Pellet always got stuck with the luzers.

But Pellet had long since learned to not so much as humbly request - let alone, stand firm and argue - for an assignment, ones which were better suited to his preferences and competence.  

Nope.  Pellet had decided that making any appeals before his superior, not worth it, to say the least.  Last time was, a few days before some weird guys of Gibeah...anyway, all that - the careful phrases, the simpering in general - got Pellet was having been roughly turned over on his belly.  There must have have been arleast twenty of em.

And to this day, Pellet was expected to go around, just grinning and simpering, and acting like that outrage never had happened to him?  Seriously???