Sympathy for the Devil

Please allow me to introduce myself.
I'm a man of wealth and taste.
...Or so the song goes. I've been long portrayed as a man of great sophistication, the dude oozing charm and wit, walking sex on legs. All that is no mere exaggeration, I assure you. It's part of my job, after all: To seduce, to entice, to tempt. But what happens when the lights fade and the spotlight goes out? What happens to the devil when he retires to his throne of bones amidst the screaming and the tortured souls?
He pops vicodin.
No, I'm kidding.
No mere mortal drug can suppress the pain I endure every single waking moment of my life. You think you've felt pain? You think you've been in agony? All you apes who've broken their leg, you perpetual scoliosis patients and those with infarctions on their legs have NOTHING against what I go through each day. Even waking up is a pain. Amazing, isn't it, how I manage to lure hapless souls into my grasp by playing the charming Prince and yet retire to my bed in sheer agony that I never let slip to the outside world?
How bad is it? Oh, wouldn't you like to know?
Do you still want to? It's not too late to  turn back?
Well, alright.

Imagine this: Someone's taken your right leg and stabbed it with a large knife. Now along with that, they've chosen to heat several forks and are now dragging those white-hot tongs up and down the side of leg which still has the knife buried in deep. And if that's not enough, they stick even more forks into the thigh. After all that, they let the pain sit for a while before giving the same leg a good long twist.

Every movement I do is laced with pain. Every single step I take is sheer agony. On a good day, the pain dies down to a dull roar like the worst migraine you've ever experienced -- except it's happening in my right leg. That's why I have a cane. No, it's not just there for looks. It too serves a purpose.
I'm sure you're questioning yourself by now. I've heard it all, the various questions from you monkeys doubting who I am.
"I thought the devil couldn't feel pain?"
"Doesn't the devil cause pain?"
Well, you try hurtling yourself from Heaven and landing into the Grand Canyon and tell me it doesn't hurt.
Yes, that's what caused this injury. You can say that indeed, I did it to myself. I was young then, a bit impetuous. I had no idea what I'd signed up for when I took that plunge. It seemed very welcoming at first, seeing the Earth far below me when they had taken my to the very edge of Heaven. They tore my robes to get at my wings, snapping them with their lances to make sure I couldn't fly back up to where they were.
A push.
Then I fell.
For a while, I couldn't feel anything. Already, I felt numb from the cold air rushing past me. My wings didn't hurt any longer. That too was drowned out by the chill. There was nothing around me but air, light and the others who had fallen with me. I closed my eyes. The ground was getting closer.
When I re-opened them, years had passed. I remember my first memory after that fall looking into the deep red eyes of Tiamat, the world shaper. He told me not to move but -stubborn creature that I am- I moved.
Nothing was ever the same.
Though years had passed from the fall, my leg and arm bear pain that feels as fresh as that day. Centuries couldn't heal my injuries. I don't mind in the least. I think being flawed has its own sort of charm, don't you think?

----
Now that it's raining more than ever
Know that we still have each other

He sat himself down on a nearby park bench, wincing slightly. With a sigh, he set down his cane and set to work, massaging his thigh. Turning his head to the sky, Lucifer took in a breath. The air around him was colder than usual and that was the sign of oncoming rain. He leaned back, crossing his legs with a slight wince and stared up almost defiantly at the heavens.
Oh ha ha. Very funny.
Then the rain came stronger than it usually did when it was just starting out.
Is this your idea of a joke? I'm already in pain! Did you HAVE to make it rain?
With a sigh, he grasped his cane and steadied himself to get up. Around him, people were running to get out of the sudden deluge. He was now soaked to the bone but what did it matter? It couldn't get any worse.
Suddenly, the rain stopped.
Lucifer blinked. Perhaps they were having a good laugh up there at him; a crippled demon in a sopping wet Armani suit with his hair plastered over his face, trying to limp away from the punishment of heaven.
Well, perhaps that did seem a bit pathetic.
Any minute now, the rain would start again and he would be wet. Better to get up and head to some sort of shade before it started. But that was strange. He still heard rain. A shadow came over him and Lucifer once more let out a sigh. Just what he needed.
"Go away. I don't need your pity." he began to say as he got up but when he finally raised his head, he saw not the face of a stranger with eyes of pity but his own wife's face, watching him with deep concern. She held an umbrella over him and lightly touched his hand.
"Nikki..."
He was wet, shivering from the cold and in pain from his leg and perhaps he did look as pathetic as he had pictured himself but somehow, he knew Nikki would make it all better. She always did. As they walked back to his car, Lucifer stole one last triumphant look at the heavens.
Make it rain all you want. You may have the power, the praise of millions...
But I have a wife.

You can stand under my Umbrella