Rodney had a feeling he wouldn’t be getting any homework done today. He had just met Satan, who appeared to be the handsome English actor Jude Law. The evil angel of light had already tricked Rodney into breaking his fast and it was only 3:45 p.m. Rodney felt like a loser, a failure, and an unsophisticated idiot. Luckily for him, he didn’t even know it was the prince of this world who was paying him a visit. He thought it was just some random demon—and that was enough to give him anxiety.

Rodney’s sunset-hued Pacer was heading west on Sherman Way in the San Fernando Valley of Los Angeles in an area of town called Van Nuys. In the front seat next to Rodney sat the devil, the cherub who fell from heaven like lightning. In the back seat was Barook, Rodney’s nervous dominion angel. Satan was suggesting that they all head back to Rodney’s place to relax and smoke a little something, when Adoram—a six-winged seraph angel—came flying through the windshield of Rodney’s bubble-shaped car. Barook breathed an audible sigh of relief at the sight of his powerful supervising angel. Adoram hovered in front of Satan’s face and said, “How about you move to the back seat?”

Satan complied, knowing that Adoram outranked him in the angelic order, and also was more powerful than he. Now was not the time to put up a fight. Satan grumbled, “You again? Can’t get enough of me, old friend?”

“Not when you’re messing with a saint in my territory.”

“Adoram! It’s good to see you,” exclaimed Rodney.

“It’s good to see you also, Rodney.”

Rodney whispered, “This demon seems nice, but he did get me to break my fast already. I guess I’m being a spiritual wimp instead of a spiritual warrior.”

Jude Law smiled from the back seat. Adoram’s face hardened with resolve. “God knows what He’s doing. He won’t allow you to be tempted beyond your strength. I’m here to help you. Barook is here to help you. God will give you power. What more do you need?”

“Are you kidding me? What more do I need?” Rodney practically shouted. “An army of angels. Um, more self-control. Some extra smarts wouldn’t hurt. A better-looking face. Less acne. Nicer clothes. Some coordination and skill at sports.”

“Some confidence,” Barook chimed in from the back seat.

Jude Law smiled again.

“This demon wants you to feel impotent,” Adoram continued.

“Ahhhh!” Rodney screamed while gripping the steering wheel tightly. “I’m impotent? Are you kidding me? This is a disaster!”

“No, no, no,” said Adoram as Jude Law chuckled, and Barook shook his head and lowered his eyes to the floor. “You are not powerless because God will deliver you from the perilous pestilence. He shall cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you shall take refuge. No evil shall befall you. He has given His angels charge over you. You shall trample the serpent under your foot.”

“Yes, you have nothing to fear from me, Rodney” Jude Law purred from the back seat. “You need to relax. Have you heard of the medicinal qualities of cannabis? It’s an herb that can calm you down and help you deal with these anxieties and troublesome emotions. It’s all natural, and in California it’s perfectly legal.”

“You mean pot?” asked Rodney.

“Don’t you think it would help you right now?” asked the serpent of old.

“Maybe, I don’t know. I’ve never smoked it before.”

Adoram could see where this was going. He couldn’t tell Satan to leave or to shut up because God Himself allowed Satan to be here to tempt Rodney, but he could try to foil these evil plans and turn them into lessons. “Why don’t we stop at that pot clinic on the corner of Sepulveda and Sherman Way? It’s got a hookah bar on the back patio. That way Rodney can sample a few different varieties.”

“You’re chill with this?” Rodney asked Adoram.

“If it helps you calm down, yes.”

“Wonderful idea,” said Satan. Barook kept quiet while wondering how Adoram would turn this situation to Rodney’s good. He wasn’t sure it would work.

***

Rodney pulled into a run-down strip mall. It wasn’t far from Rodney’s school and some of his classmates visited this place on a regular basis. The tiny parking lot was jammed with cars. One of the storefront windows displayed a bright green plus sign—the sure indicator of a place that sold marijuana. Rodney eased his ancient Pacer into a too-small parking space and squeezed out of his half-open door, trying not to bang it against the car next to him. His troupe of supernatural companions simply floated out through the car’s windows.

Rodney pulled open the door of Healthy Life Collective. In front of him was a counter displaying mason jars full of marijuana buds of all varieties. Glass pipes were on a lower shelf. A hallway on the right led to a back patio. Rodney told the clerk behind the counter that he was going to the hookah bar in back. He couldn’t help but notice the demon octopus hanging onto the clerk’s head and the demon sloth on his back. There was also a demon goat jumping around his feet.

The patio that housed the hookah bar was fenced in for privacy but roofless so the copious amounts of smoke generated in its space could waft up and out. The overriding aroma was one of skunk spray. Small pockets of bubblegum and mint hit Rodney’s nose, but mostly all he could smell was skunky smoke. He chose a small empty table and sat down. A cute waitress approached him. Supernatural frogs jumped all over her shoulders and hopped around her feet. “What can I get for you?”

“I’ll take the daily special, the Blueberry Yum Yum,” said Rodney pointing to the chalkboard on the wall, trying to look cool although he had no idea what he had just ordered. He had never smoked a cigarette, much less a joint or a water pipe before. He had no clue what different flavors of weed smelled or tasted like. He figured anything with such a silly name couldn’t be all that bad. Silently his angel companions stood around his table. Satan slipped into the seat across from him. “If you need help, just let me know,” he offered. Looking around he added, “It’s glamorously dirty in here.” Rodney was thankful no one else could see or hear this crazy demon.

He let his eyes drift over the people sitting around him. Large bongs with multiple tubes sat bubbling on tabletops. At one table of middle-aged businessmen he saw swarms of demon locusts flying into the hookahs and being sucked into the men through the stems of the pipes. His eyes whipped over to another table of teenage guys sharing two hookahs. Through one hookah, frog-shaped evil spirits flew into a brown-haired boy. Adoram clocked Rodney’s stare. He leaned in and whispered in Rodney’s ear, “That young man doesn’t even know he has bipolar disorder. These mind-altering drugs will make his condition worse. He’s in for a scary ride over the next week. So are his friends and his family.”

“How are the demons getting inside people?” Rodney quietly asked the angel.

“Demons need permission to inhabit a person, just like the Holy Spirit does. Drugs, alcohol, mind-bending mushrooms—they all weaken a person’s defenses. All a demon has to do is ask, and poof—it’s in. Sadly, the wicked shall do wickedly and none of them shall understand their wickedness. But the wise shall understand. Pray for them that they may come to their senses and escape the snare of the devil, having been taken captive by him to do his will.”

“Oh, that won’t happen to you, Rodney,” said Satan, butting into the conversation. “You’re stronger than these fools. You’re as smart as an Audrey Hepburn dress.” Just then the waitress set down Rodney’s Blueberry Yum Yum-loaded hookah in front of him with a smile. “Give it a try,” Satan prodded. “See, there aren’t any demons in yours.”

“Not right now there aren’t,” said Rodney, “but after a few tokes I won’t care if there are demons in that hookah or not. Forget it. I’m open minded, but not to the point that I want my brain leaking out. That ain’t it,” he said to his invisible companions, dropping some cash on the table. “I’m done here. I’ve seen enough.”

“Thanks a lot, Buzzkill,” Jude Law said to the seraph angel as they followed Rodney out the door. Barook let out a sigh of relief.

 Rodney squeezed back into his orange car. He noticed that demon flies were buzzing all around him. “Adoram, how do I get rid of these?”

“Wash your feet in the water of the word.”

“Good idea.” Rodney turned his key in the ignition and switched on the radio. The old-fashioned dial was tuned to 95.9 FM The Fish, a Christian radio station. A song by the David Crowder Band, “O Praise Him,” blared through the ancient, staticky car speakers. Rodney sang along in his cracked, teenage voice. He did not have perfect pitch, but he did have enthusiasm.  

“O praise Him,

O praise Him,

He is holy,

He is holy!”

Satan grimaced in pain as the angels chimed in on the hallelujahs. “I—I, I need to be somewhere more important,” he shouted, flying with great speed out of the little tangerine-colored car. The demon flies swarmed out directly afterward.

“That was cray cray,” said Rodney, turning down the radio. “I’m glad he’s gone, though, and I can put this whole temptation thing behind me.” Adoram and Barook shared a look. Neither one of them wanted to tell Rodney that he had six more days of this in front of him. They weren’t entirely sure he would make it through.