How to Make Fast Friends in the Sault Sainte Marie Satanic Scene

If a Two-Pillow Sleeper48 who can’t sleep without an arm underhead as well, and this head-propping arm suffers paresthesia every five mins, toss and turn and motel-room mutter Faulkner’s In a strange room you must empty yourself for sleep. And before you are emptied for sleep, what are you. And when you are emptied for sleep, what are you. And when you are emptied for sleep you are not. And when you are filled with sleep, you never were. I don’t know what I am. I don’t know if I am or not. […] How often have I lain beneath rain on a strange roof, thinking of home. 49 48 (Romano, 2013) 49 (Faulkner, 2000) begetting a spiteful, “We just got kicked out of your stupid home, ” from Brittanica, who then airs grievances galore regarding her own foregone friends in the Thornhill Satanist Meetup Group, then simulate and stage the serving of a higher purpose by suggesting Brittanica organize a Sault Sainte Marie Satanist Meetup Group.

One: If anxious as ever to be eye-catching, patronize the Sault’s lone ‘alt’ clothing store and pick out a nice cape for yourself. Pick out a tight pleather basque for Britannica. Keep receipts to write off against any grants or fellowships to be counterfactually awarded for Outstanding Blogging in the Anhistorical Soteriological Eschatology space.

Two: If Britannica’s bust draws the attention of periodical readers and fentanyl-ravaged junkies alike, ignore tongue clickings from behind the circulation desk. Ask a library scientist which way to the meeting space. If the Urbana postgraduate looks up peevishly, i.e. ‘Busy archiving here, ’ retort with a look that asks, ‘Archiving what exactly? The Wanted Wednesday column?’

Three: Greet the eight aspirant Satanists gathered in the basement. As the only 37-year-old man present, wear the pants in this situation; also, the cape.

Four: If a prematurely-balding teen writes ‘Tim Raval’ on his name tag, mask your alarm by greeting the group with a robust, “Hail Satan!”

Five: Espouse the tenets non-theistic Satanists lead with on the Satanic Temple website’s Kidz Kwik Reference Guide, e.g. ‘freedom of expression, ’ e.g. ‘fights for secularism, ’ e.g. ‘after school Satan clubs.’50

Six: Bitch and moan about the Satanic panic of the 80s. Mock Christianity as though this required Lenny Bruce’s bravery back in ’55.

Seven: Hear what brings Tim to the Meetup, “My dad’s music and life’s work has really influenced me to think outside the box you know, so like I always wondered why all these people are going to church and worshipping some sky-man. Plus, I am really into the musical stylings of the band Ghost. If those guys are into Satan, maybe Satan is someone I should kick it with. But not like a real Satan more of a concept just to rebel against the establishment and corporations and stuff. Umm…hail Satan I guess. ”

Eight: Respond, “And Hail Satan to you, young man, ” before complimenting Tim on his precociousness and candour. If uncertain how many murderous details Alan Raval has shared with his son, write the name Matthew S. Leifer-Pusey on your own nametag. If Britannica scrunches her eyes at the writing of the “Leifer-Pusey”51 moniker, scrunch yours right back.

Nine: If non-theistic Satanism lacks pizzazz, and is more like a hip version of Randian Objectivism, run out of Satanic talking points by minute three. Discuss hobbies instead. Ryan Ingerson’s hobby is curling. Nriprendah Singh’s hobby is playing snooker. Matt Scornianki’s hobby is, endearingly, accounting. Tom Sklid’s hobby is snow-mobiling. Lisa Palumbi’s hobby is paddle-boarding. Lisa Palumbi is notably busty. 50 (thesatanictemple.com, n.d.) 51 (Leifer & Pusey, 2017) Tim Raval’s hobby is the sonic exploration of cosmic themes. Britannica’s hobby is singing. Your hobby is fatherhood.

Ten: If Ryan Ingerson boasts how his own father books the Essar Centre anthem singers, notice Britannica’s foot brushing against the foot of Ryan Ingerson. Fear that Britannica, just as she’s become the Tulpa of Catherine you’ve so long sought to manifest, is soon to be lost as any Alexandrian library. Pout and cling back at the motel like it was going out of recorded memory.