“So,” said Mercury, “where are we going?”

“I have to go see the Antichrist,” Christine said […]

“Oh jeez,” said Mercury. “Seriously? The Antichrist?” He said it as if she had announced she was going to a Nickelback concert.

“What do you have against the Antichrist?”

“He’s an ass, Christine. A real dickweed.”

“Well,” said Christine, “he is the Antichrist…”

“Hey, we all have our jobs to do. That’s no excuse for being a dickweed.”