“Think of it this way,” said Lucifer (at first we called him Satan, but he objected, telling us it was not his name but a title), “God was like an artist too famous for his own good, who has taken on too many commissions. There was only time for Him to do the initial outline and then the finishing touches – the hands, the faces. Between whiles I, his assistant, filled in the rest. “Let there be flying things!” He’d say, and I’d follow behind, saying “Scarlet tanagers; ruby-crested hummingbirds; vampire bats; pterodactyls; bees.” At the end, He’d make adjustments (my wren was about the size of a condor; my geese had blue-green wings).
“It is the nature of an assistant to want to be a master. ‘Let there be enormous reptiley things!’ I shouted one day. ‘All sorts of them! Flying ones, swimming ones; long-necked, no-necked, ferocious, gentle, two-horned, three- horned, five-horned!’ And Creation listened to me, and there were dinosaurs everywhere, wonderful things. I miss them, but God rubbed them right out and we spent the next three days doing mammals.”