The following is a work of satire and a long-awaited part of “The Satan Series,” in which evil leaders and terrorists arrive in hell. Oh, how I have waited for this day.
9 Esfand 1404 (Persian calendar)
11 Adar 5786 (Jewish calendar)
February 28, 2026 (Gregorian calendar)
Hell. Tenth floor waiting room.
Former Iranian Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei steps off an escalator. His long robe is almost caught in the moving steps before he quickly pulls the fabric upward and enters an empty, sterile room. A bowl containing 72 white grapes sits atop an IKEA coffee table.
Suddenly, Saddam Hussein, dressed in tattered military fatigues, enters the room and approaches Khamenei.
Hussein: Oh, it’s you. Sit down. Don’t touch the grapes.
Hussein puts a long, floppy, red Twizzler in his mouth and attempts to light it on fire with a match.
Khamenei (stupefied): I…uh—
Hussein: What are you looking at?
Khamenei: Nothing. Didn’t you used to smoke cigars?
Hussein: They don’t allow cigars for lifetime offenders here.
The former Iraqi dictator’s limp Twizzler dangles off his lips and the flame burns out.
Hussein: Damn it. That’s the third one today.
There is an awkward silence as Khamenei stares in disbelief at Hussein, then at the grapes.
Hussein: Don’t bother counting them. That’s the first thing your predecessor did when he got here in ‘89. And every other one—bin Laden, Soleimani, Nasrallah, Sinwar. There’s 72 grapes in there. We all checked. Don’t touch them. Don’t even look at them. Ismael Haniyeh tried to bite one seductively and broke every last tooth in his useless head.
Khamenei: I think I’m dreaming.
Hussein, pulling out another Twizzler from his torn coat pocket: Why?
Khamenei: You’re Saddam? The real Saddam?
Hussein: Correct, you mule. The one you went to war with for eight years. Don’t pretend like you don’t remember me. You would have been here before me if the Americans hadn’t realized “Iraq” was spelled with a “q” instead of an “n.”
Khamenei (visibly shaken): I remember you. We were bitter enemies. Everyone knew you had a plaque on your desk that read, “Three Whom God Should Not Have Created: Persians, Jews, and Flies.”
The flame goes out on another one of Hussein’s Twizzlers and he angrily throws the licorice to the floor.
Hussein: I’ve changed my mind since then. God shouldn’t have created Persians, Jews, and oat milk. You know we don’t even get half and half here?
Khamenei: Here? Wait, I admit, I didn’t always do acts of lovingkindness. Last month, I slaughtered over 30,000 in a few days and shared my Netflix password with my sons, but this cannot be my last stop! At least, if this is where I think it is.
Khamenei’s gaze wanders.
Hussein: I told you not to look at the grapes! And this is exactly where you think it is.
Just then, Sergio, Satan’s devoted, but perpetually overwhelmed assistant, runs in, panting.
Sergio: Oh, Saddam, thank you for keeping him occupied for me. Master nearly lost his head when he heard the news. He was expecting this entry on Purim. Master even lost $100 to Jeffrey Dahmer, who bet him this one would arrive before Purim.
Khamenei: Who is Master?
Sergio and Hussein both look at Khamenei with repulsed amusement.
Sergio: I’ll take this. Master is the one you call “sheytan”; the Prince of Darkness; Lucifer; Beelzebub; the serpent; and for three months between February and April, The Collector of Internal Revenue!
Hussein: Oh, let me say the next part!
Sergio: No! And stop instigating or I’ll switch your oat milk to chalk!
Hussein: Please! (Before Sergio can stop him, Hussein begins to blurt out a message.)Welcome to—
Satan throws open the French doors as if entering behind curtains on a Broadway stage.
Satan: Hell! I’ve been waiting decades for this. You’re my biggest catch in years.
Sergio: Master! Oh, how tranquil you look, given news of the other 49.
Satan: Other 49?
Sergio (reluctantly): Yes, Master. They were all flattened together. The others are waiting on the sixth floor until Qaddafi finishes sharpening the pokers.
Satan: How many times have I told Bibi and Trump to send us fewer at a time, rather than more?! They do this on purpose, you know. I talked Eve into eating one lousy fruit and now I get sent the worst of the worst in droves!
Satan turns towards Khamenei and begins shouting.
Satan: And you! Couldn’t you have all met on Zoom instead of getting everyone together at the compound?!
Khamenei: I…I don’t know what’s happening!
Satan: And stop eyeing those grapes! They’re purely for decorative and torturous purposes.
Khamenei: I’m sorry. Did you say something about Qaddafi?
Satan: Yes, and he is getting a more lenient sentence than you ever will. You’re in for something even worse than Chemical Weapons Twizzler here (he points at Saddam).
Saddam: I don’t think that’s funny.
Satan: Quiet or I’ll switch you over to chickpea milk. Sergio, bring this miserable entry forward.
Sergio leads Khamenei closer to Satan.
Satan: I have a personal beef with you.
Khamenei (cowering): With me?
Satan: Yes. In addition to tens of thousands of charges of murder, torture, rape, maiming, stealing billions, pillaging, funding and training terrorists, and setting one of the greatest civilizations in history back to the primitiveness of the seventh century, you are also being charged with one count of identity theft.
Khamenei: Identity what?
Satan: IDENTITY THEFT! For 36 years, you, Mr. Khamenei, have been using my identity! For 36 years, your people have been calling you, and not me, the devil!
Khamenei: It’s not true! My people love me!
Satan: Love you?! They’re out in the streets, dancing!
Khamenei: But we outlawed public dancing! I mean, we cherished our people! And ask anyone, I was always known for my “bushy white beard and easy smile”!
Satan: Is that so? Sergio, you have the list?
Sergio: Yes, Oh Dark One. But I’ll need a little help with it. There are 126,000 pages total.
Just then, Carl, the custodian, enters the tenth floor and helps Sergio roll out papers containing an infinitely long list of names.
Satan (wearing his glasses and using a TI-84 graphing calculator): Let’s see, that’s at least 500,000 from the Iran-Iraq War—
Khamenei: I was less active then!
Satan: And we have the executions since 1979, including the horror of everything you did in 1988—
Khamenei: But Raisi, “The Butcher of Tehran,” ordered those!
Satan: Now then, you were very busy ending lives in the 2000s. And this is only the Iranian list. Sergio, you have the one for Hezbollah, Houthis, and Palestinian terror casualties?
Sergio: Yes, Master.
Satan: And the one for Americans and their allies from EFP roadside bombs in Iraq, and for arming Iraqi militias?
Sergio: They’re all here, Master.
Khamenei: But—
Satan: The Iranian casualties include hanging gay men and committing horrors upon women, or are those filed separately?
Sergio: They’re all in the Iran files.
Khamenei: But—
Satan: Including what they did to religious minorities? The Marine and French barracks in 1983? The Jewish community center in Argentina in 1994? Having advanced knowledge of Oct. 7? Sending Shahed drones to Russia to use against Ukraine?
Sergio nods his head.
Saddam (elbowing a terrified Khamenei): You make me look like Julie Andrews.
Satan: Good. Add one count of identity theft, then have Carl prepare a lot of Nespresso and let’s have each victim testify.
Sergio: Forgive me, Master, but HR banned aluminum coffee pods as of January.
Satan: These progressives torture me to no end! Forget it! Just find some Red Bull and I’ll ask G-d to open the east entrance to heaven so each witness can make their way down for the trial.
Khamenei (yelling): Each witness?! But we’ll be here all eternity!
Satan and Sergio smile devilishly.
Satan: I’ll make you an offer: You may point to one name on the list and that will be your one and only witness.
Khamenei: Really?
Satan: Devil Scout’s Honor.
Hussein: Hurry up and choose you miserable toad!
Khamenei closes his eyes and reluctantly points to a name.
Satan: Ah, a most apt choice. Sergio, please notify the heavenly angels to escort the witness down, and assure her she will return to heaven as soon as possible.
Khamenei (shaking): Her?
Satan: Why, yes. You pointed to the name of a woman many knew as Jina.
Khamenei: J…Jina?
Satan: That’s right. Though you may remember her by her full name: Jina Mahsa Amini. And she should arrive in just a few minutes.
Tabby Refael is an award-winning writer, speaker, and former weekly columnist for The Jewish Journal of Greater Los Angeles. Follow her on X and Instagram @tabbyrefael
