Hezbollah Learns That Having Pagers Is a Blast

The following is a work of satire. Last month, when Hamas political leader Ismail Haniyeh perished in an unbelievable operation in Tehran, I announced the creation of “The Satan Series,” in which I wrote, “Given the recent influx of entries into hell, I have decided to dedicate a satirical column to Satan and any other major terrorist leader who may meet his end this year.” Last Tuesday, a spectacular event occurred in Beirut and Damascus, resulting in this third part of “The Satan Series” (former Iranian president Ebrahim Raisi kicked off the first part). We now return to the unfolding saga in hell. And remind me never to purchase pagers from The Zohan again. 

September 17, 2024

Somewhere in hell (eighth floor)

Sergio (Satan’s assistant) is training a newly-hired underworld butler. 

Sergio: Now listen very carefully: Master [Satan] has his breakfast at 7:30 a.m. and lunch at 1 p.m. sharp.

Butler: What about dinner?

Sergio: Each evening is different. Sometimes, he is served dinner at 8 and other times, he is full from having devoured too many souls in the late afternoon. Also, absolutely no kiwi. Master is very allergic.

Butler, taking detailed notes: Dinner, souls, kiwi. Got it. What about snacks?

Sergio: Master is flexible about midday snacks. Think everything from eggs to berries to heavier foods like tapas and those little meatballs served on toothpicks.

Butler: I will do my very best to ensure they taste like hell. 

Sergio: Thank you. You have a built-in grill all around, at least. Now start getting ready because he’s due back any minute from softball practice with Muammar Qaddafi. 

20 minutes later. 

Sergio: How was softball, master?

Satan, wiping his brow: Exhausting. Who ever heard of such a competitive lunatic? That man puts the “daffy” in Qaddafi. But at least it’s been a mostly slow day otherwise. 

A fax machine in a nearby administrative office suddenly begins printing page after page of urgent alerts. Sergio retrieves the papers and scans them nervously. 

Sergio: Oh, no. 

Satan: What is it?

Sergio: Uh, nothing, master. Just a few developments from Beirut and Damascus.

Satan: Israel didn’t pound Nasrallah into a crater, did it? The last thing I need here today is a Hezbollah lowlife. 

Sergio, responding hesitantly: Seems it was more like a few thousand small craters, oh Evil One.

Satan: What?

The eighth-floor receptionist, Angela, bursts into the room, panting and flustered, and shuts the door behind her. 

Angela (screaming frantically): They’re here! They’re all here! So many of them! Help me keep the door shut!

Sergio: It can’t be.

Angela: I don’t know who they are! But they keep screaming and fanning their groins!

Sergio: I can’t believe they’re here already.

Satan: Who?!

Sergio: Master, you had better sit down. We’ve received reports that thousands of Hezbollah terrorists have been targeted with explosive pagers.

Angela: Explosive what?

Sergio: Ah, I forgot your age. Pagers are —

Satan: They’re low-tech, medieval electronic leashes that beep and send a simple message. You clip them on your side. G-d made me wear one in the early ’90s so he wouldn’t have to keep yelling my name from above each morning. But I know what would have happened if I had spent the entire year sending missiles and rockets up to heaven every single day.

Angela: Where do you wear a pager?

Satan: Well, they’re usually worn near…oh, G-d. This can’t be happening. 

Angela can no longer safely guard the door and a tidal wave of Hezbollah terrorists bursts through. 

Satan, screaming: By Lucifer’s beard! Where are their —

Butler: Hard-boiled eggs, anyone?

The butler suddenly enters the room, approaching Satan and holding a silver tray.

Sergio (shooing the butler away): Not now, Harry! 

Satan: Let me get this straight: All of the pagers blew up at the same time?

Sergio: I’m afraid so.

Satan: Unbelievable. I offered Yasser Arafat one bowl of figs back in 2010 and the Mossad will never let me forget it. How many terrorists did it send this time?

Angela: I couldn’t keep count, master. They asked if I was “one of the virgins” and I just looked at them and blurted out, “Would it even help you if I was?!” I’m sorry. 

Satan: Forget it. This is too chaotic. They’ve left me no choice but to use my big voice. 

Satan extends his arms and roars in a hellishly terrifying voice.

Satan: Be still! You have entered the depths of hell and will be judged according to your heinous deeds. And the next one of you who screams will be assigned to share a dungeon with the producers of “Grease 2!”

Sergio whispers in Satan’s ear: I don’t think those people are dead yet, master.

Satan: Well, they are to me!

Sergio: I hate to see you so upset. Why don’t we have these terrorists wait in Holding Area Y for a day or two until you decide how you wish to proceed? I promise they won’t be too comfortable there. 

Satan: You mean the room that looks exactly like the DMV, where the “Baby Shark” song is always on auto-play?

Sergio, patting Satan’s back: Yes, master. Let me deal with this. Harry, please bring master a whiskey sour and some antacids. 

The next day, in the break room on hell’s eighth floor. 

Angela, filing her nails: Yesterday was so old-school. Why didn’t Hezbollah just use cell phones?

Sergio: They must have been trying to avoid Israeli surveillance. They were probably better off using carrier pigeons.

Satan: No, Iran even arrested pigeons, remember? The pigeons were charged with spying. A few squirrels were also arrested. Nothing is safe. 

Satan eyes the fax machine suspiciously. The machine begins to print more updates. 

Sergio: It seems there’s been a second wave of explosions, and this one includes radios and walkie-talkies. Oh, master, I implore you, please don’t offer any more terrorist leaders fruit or other luxuries in hell anymore. It says here that a walkie-talkie exploded today during a funeral for a dozen Hezbollah members who were obliterated yesterday. I fear an influx of new arrivals this week. 

Sergio notices the butler holding another tray of snacks and encourages him to approach Satan.

Satan: You must hand it to the Mossad for such ingenuity. Infiltrating those pagers and all of those devices must have taken a lot of—

Butler: Meatballs, master?

Two days later, September 19, 2024. Eighth floor of hell, sentencing room. 

Satan: Bring them forward, bailiff. I want to hear what these terrorists have to say for themselves. 

Bailiff: Proceed forward, all of you.

Satan: By now, you must have realized that you are not in heaven. I am going to give you one chance to speak before you are sentenced for your cruelty and violence. 

A Hezbollah operative: Uh, we’re not sure who you are, but we didn’t do anything wrong. 

Satan erupts in a fury of fire and rage: I am your merciless judge as well as your accuser! You will know me for eternity. I am the darkest knight, your unrelenting torturer, and just for fun, I also handle customer service-related calls for Spectrum cable and internet on weekends. 

Hezbollah operative, cowering in fear: We didn’t do anything! We were crossing the street and all of the sudden, this atrocity occurred! 

Satan: You truly believe you did nothing? I will offer you a deal: Tell me if you recognize the following names and I will give you a more lenient sentence: Alma Ayman Fakhr al-Din, age 11, Naji Taher Halabi, age 11, Millar Maadad al-Shaar, age 10, Fajr Laith Abu Salah, age 16, Amir Rabi Abu Salah, age 16, Hazem Akram Abu Salah, age 15, Yazan Naif Abu Salah, age 12, John Wadie Ibrahim, age 13, Izil Nashat Ayoub, age 12, Finis Adham Safadi, age 12, and Nazem Fakher Saeb, age 16.

Hezbollah operative: I do not recognize these names. 

Satan: These were the children Hezbollah murdered on a soccer field in Majdal Shams in northern Israel in July. 

Hezbollah operative: We didn’t know that rocket would hit any Druze! We thought they were —

Satan: Jews?

Hezbollah operative: Yes. 

Satan: What about Fatima Abdullah, age 9?

Hezbollah operative: The Zionists killed her with the pager attack!

Satan: Israel may have rigged the pager she picked up from a table, but she wasn’t the target. Tell me who is ultimately responsible for this war between Hezbollah and Israel that would end today if not for such heinous Jew-hatred?

Hezbollah operative: The Zio—

Satan: Silence! What about Corporal Terry W. Abbott? Who was he?

Hezbollah operative: I don’t know.

Satan: He was one of the 241 American service members, including 220 Marines, that Hezbollah killed in a 1983 bombing in Beirut.

Hezbollah operative: But most of us weren’t even alive back then!

“Where you are going … there are no cell phones, radios, pigeons … or even pagers.” – Satan

Satan: Exactly. You and your ilk are perpetuating the hideous violence 40 years later. Proceed forward, all of you, for your sentencing. Where you are going … there are no cell phones, radios, pigeons … or even pagers.

Tabby Refael is an award-winning writer, speaker and weekly columnist for The Jewish Journal of Greater Los Angeles. Follow her on X and Instagram @TabbyRefael.