Neighbors gathered around a modest charcoal grill, the scent of onions and cheap hot dogs drifting over the fence. A folding table held mismatched plates, a dented cooler, and a stack of paper napkins. The afternoon sun fell on a red‑checkered blanket that had seen better days.
Satan arrived with a gleaming steel grill, twice the size of the one already smoking. He set down a crate of prime rib, a slab of pork belly, and a bottle of expensive sauce. He smiled, flashing a grin that caught the light.
“Looks like I brought the upgrade,” he said, his voice smooth as the oil that dripped from the meat.
Jesus stepped forward with a basket of fresh corn, a few tomatoes, and a loaf of bread that had been baked earlier in the house. He placed the basket on the table, laid the bread beside it, and began to hand out portions.
“The old line about sharing what’s on the table,” he said, offering a slice of bread to a child who had been eyeing the larger grill.
The neighbors watched. Some reached for the larger grill, drawn by the promise of richer flavor. Others lingered by the smaller basket, curious about the simple fare.
Satan turned the prime rib, the fat crackling, the aroma thickening the air. He lifted a plate, filled it with a generous serving, and placed it before a man who had been nursing a cold beer.
Jesus, meanwhile, sliced the corn, buttering each ear with a quiet motion. He handed a piece to an elderly woman, her hands trembling slightly as she accepted it.
When the plates were full, the grill on Satan’s side sputtered and a flare of flame rose. A neighbor flinched, the heat too sudden. Satan laughed, a sound that seemed to echo off the fence.
Jesus calmly set down his basket, brushed crumbs from his sleeves, and said, “The old line about the last plate being shared.” He reached for the final piece of bread, broke it in half, and offered each person a share.
One child, eyes wide, asked why there were two grills at all. Satan shrugged, “Because I like to make things bigger.” Jesus smiled, “Because I like to make things enough.”
The sun began to set, casting long shadows across the lawn. The larger grill hissed its final breaths, the meat now dry. The smaller grill’s coals glowed low, the corn still sweet.
Neighbors left with plates in hand, some clutching the richer cuts, others the simple bread. The last plate,half a slice of bread, a kernel of corn,was left on the blanket, a quiet reminder that what mattered was the act of giving, not the size of the grill.
Jesus & Satan is a gallery of scenes of the two of them: at work, at sea, in court, at the spa, at a cookout, on a golf course, at the end of everything. There are 109 scenes. Every scene prints on a tee, a hoodie, a poster, a mug and more; tap one and Buy Now. Numbered 777/666 editions drop on Fridays: Satan side 6:06 pm PT, Jesus side 7:07 pm PT. The tote board counts 777 against 666: every dollar given, live. “Find your word”: every word, printed, at /words/. “Print yours” lets a visitor print their own image.
In the quiet after the grill’s embers died, the backyard felt a little larger, a little more generous.