The New SAS Student Worker, Pt. I

“Records and Registration, this is Satan.”
“OH MY GOD!!!”
click

“Records and Registration, this is Satan.”
“What did you say your name was?”
“Satan.”
“Oh, hi Sara. Is this the number I call to order a transcript?”
“Yes.” fuming, literally. Smoke, sulfer, fire, the works.
“Ok great. I need to have a copy sent to me at my home address, two official copies sent to my school district, a copy sent to my grandma in Uzbekistan, can you do that? and I need on faxed to my psychiatrist, too.”
“We actually need your request in writing before—“
“WHAT!! The hoops you people make me jump though. The HOOPS!”
“Hey I don’t make up the rules, lady. It’s a federal law.”
sigh “Ok fiiiiine. What do I have to do to get my transcript.”
“Well you can make the request in perso—“
“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!? I LIVE IN MARYLAND HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO DO THAT???!!???”
unfazed “—or you can mail or fax us the request.”
“OKFINEI’LLFAXTHEDAMNREQUEST!!!”
“Do you need the fax number?”
“What do you think?”
“Alright, it’s area-code 666, 281-gotohellyoubitch! MUAH HAHAHAHAHA…”
CLICK
The name is SATAN.

“Records and Registration, this is Satan.”
“Hi Susan can you transfer me to the School of Ed?”
“Sure.”
“Ok thanks.”
pause
“You said you were going to transfer me?”
“No.”
“Yes, you did...”
“No, I said I could.”
“Oh.”
pause
“Well, can you please transfer me there?”
“Sure one moment please.”
“OHMYGODOHMYGOD WHAT’S HAPPENING??!!!”
“Just hang tight. You should appear, chopped up into several different pieces, in their office shortly. What they decide to do with you is not my problem, but my guess is that you won't be needing your teaching certificate anymore. Have a great day.”
click

“Records and Registration, this is Satan.”
“Ummm… HI! How are you?”
“Oh, well, I could be better I guess. My job satisfaction is waning, this office is hotter than hell, and be-lieve me I know…”
“OH HEE HEE!! Jesus loves you!”
“Anyways, what can I do for you?”
“Ummm… what? hehe?”
“Did you have a question? Do you need help with something?”
“What?”
“This is the Office of Records and Registration. Why did you call.”
“OOOHHH!! I remember NOW!!”
“Shoot.”
“Um so when I registered last week for classes, it gave me this message like ‘you can’t register’ or something, and only one of my classes worked, and the other two I put the little number thingies in the little box thingies and pushed the button or whatever but like when I look at the thingie that tells you like where you classes are and what time they are the other ones don’t show up! And class doesn’t start for like a whole ‘nother week! and I really really really need these classes to graduate! and I’m a super senior (you know like it’s my fifth year?)so shouldn’t I just get into whatever automatically???”
Lights flicker, the earth shakes faintly, then a resounding clap of thunder is heard. An infant, suckling at his mother's breast, refuses the teet and lets out a plaintve wail.
Satan cracks a faint smile, starts humming, and then succumbs to his utter joy and breaks into song, “duh duh duh, another one bites the dust, and anther one down and another one down, another one bites the dust, hey, we’re gonna get you too, another bites the dust! Damn that felt good! BOO-ya!”