Conversations with Lucifer

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.