When most people think of the devil, they picture a large
red-skinned fanged demon with a pitchfork.
The balding, chunky middle-aged man wearing a Hawaiian shirt and
smelling like stale coffee didn’t match the image. And yet…
“Why are we having this conversation?” I asked.
“I’m not selling you my soul.” I
don’t remember how we met, or how we ended up at the beverage station of some
local Barnes and Noble bookstore in Ohio- just that it was May of 2015.
“Your soul?” Lucifer
chuckled. “Nah, nah. You’re a middle-aged white male American
engineer. In terms of souls, you’re
pretty much a blue light special at K-Mart.
Not worth the effort.”
“Umm.. thanks?” I
said. OK, not the most brilliant of
responses- but what the hel… heck SHOULD I have said.
“Besides, I’m swamped.
Got plans for David Bowie, Muhammed Ali, Prince, Alice Rickman, Florence
Henderson… no time to go trolling, I’m afraid.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Wait
a second… all of those people are still alive.
You mean next year…”
He interrupted and waved his hand in front of my face. “Ah-ah.
No telling. In fact, after this
conversation you’re going to forget everything about this. It won’t last forever- maybe a year and a
half.”
I didn’t feel any different.
Maybe he was lying. Of course, all
this just came back to me now, so… “OK-
if you’re not trolling for souls, why are we talking?”
He grinned. “Cause I
feel like BRAGGING, son. 2016 is
definitely MY YEAR!” He punctuated the
last two words by pointing at himself. “I
mean, not only do a get a plethora of riches in terms of souls in 2016. But then the election… ah, the election…”
I sighed and rolled my eyes.
“Yeah, yeah- Clinton and Bush.
Sequels are all the rage.”
His grin was ear to ear, his eyes sparkled, and he drummed
his fingers on the table. I was reminded
of playing dungeons and dragons and looking at the GM right as we walked into a
trap. “Should I be congratulating you?” I asked.
“Probably. And I’m
feeling magnanimous. Haven’t had a year
so good planned in a long time, and I like to give back. Getting greedy leads to a backlash, you know.” He pointed a finger at me, “So I thought I’d
throw a bone. Pick out something to go
right.”
Pause.
“A cure for cancer.”
OK- maybe not the best answer.
But I was put on the spot, and it seemed like a safe answer that wouldn’t
have any backlash- don’t these type of deals ALWAYS have a backlash?
But he shook his head.
“No, no. Nothing real
important. Nothing that has any serious
impact on the world today. Something light,
fluffy… something that you can look back on 2016 on and smile about.” This time, the grin was more malicious. “Trust me- you’ll need it.”
Thinking over it so more.
“OK, fine. Cubs win the World
Series.”
He grimaced. “That is
one of my favorite curses. But I suppose
108 years is long enough. Done.”
“… and Cleveland wins a sports title.”
“Going for a two-fer, kid?”
He thought about it. “What the
hell. I’m in a glorious mood. Hell, I’ll even make it an epic win over a
dream team- get the people in California more reason to hate 2016.”
“… and the Browns…”
“Uh-uh.” He shook his
head and wagged his finger. “What did I
say about being greedy. In fact… that
one will cost you.”
He stretched and stood up.
I turned to pay for the hot tea. “All
right- time for me to get back to work.
Get out of here, kid. Forget this
happened. I’ll see you again in 2063.”
“Wait, what?” I
turned around- and his chair was empty, leaving behind a faint smell of strong coffee and brimstone.
