“Hello, Jesus.”

“Hello, Newman,” Jesus said through gritted teeth. “Or should I say, Lucifer, as that’s your real name.”

“I have lived in relative notoriety because of your Father and now I’m here to put an end to all the worlds you have created.”

“I should’ve never made you work at that post office. It seems to have warped you even more, you slimy, little devil.”

The fat postal worker changed form. A red and grotesque monstrosity pulled out its pitch-fork and laughed a demon’s cackle. “What’s that I smell? Fear. No, that’s not it. Oh, I guess it’s the end of the all existence.”

“Looks like Armageddon’s going to be a little earlier than I thought,” Jesus said, face of flint. “You’re no match for me. You do know that, don’t you? No fallen angel can do this.”

Jesus produced a wrestling ring out of thin air. Vince McMahon and Jesse “The Body” Ventura moved into nearby seats to provide ringside commentary. Michael Buffer stepped up the microphone. “Ladies in gentlemen. Let’s get ready to rumblllle!”