“Why is it always the crossroads? Damn me, if it isn’t always the miserable crossroads in some miserable part of the South that is even worse than the eternal Hell-fire we reside in.” The Devil spoke to his attorney, noted barrister Edward Clarke.
Lucifer, Prince of Darkness was a tall, thin man. He had a pale complexion with red eyes. The red eyes were not necessarily evil, or threatening looking as they were intense. His hair was long and black combed neatly back, while his cloths were of the finest quality. He wore a gray three piece suit with a pocket watch in his vest pocket. His tie was red. He was a dark sort of handsome.
“People expect things to be done a certain way my lord.” Clarke’s response was about as convincing to the Devil as his ridiculous sideburns were plausible.
“Clarkey you do know that part of the reason you’re in Hell is for that atrocious facial hair. Really that is more of the reason than you being a total ass and convicting a fellow classmate from your school days, who also happens to be one of the best poets for crimes of sexual misconduct. There is no sexual misconduct you fool, just sexual conduct!”
Clarke blushed but decided to ignore that provocation. He was a skilled lawyer in his day, yet he could always be out maneuvered by his satanic client and overlord. He had never thought about it, until now but one of the greatest, and ironic torments in all of Hell, was eternal abstinence. So he would wait, it was almost witching hour, the time when all demonic interactions had to occur in the physical world. This was again due to some divinely inspired legal clause from long ago.
Just then, the Devil’s phone rang. The caller I.D. said Lilith. He let it ring a few times, before frustratingly answering the unwanted, bothersome call. “What is now?”
“Darling get some dry dog food?” She continued with an unneeded explanation. “Blondi has run out.” Blondi happened to be the only dog in Hell. He was Hitler’s German shepherd.
“Yes. Fine. Okay, I will get dry food for the dumb dog.” He hung up the phone.
“You know Clarke; I really did love her once. Honestly. But she is the very root to all my miserable suffering. Hell was a superb bachelor’s pad before that bitch was cast out of Eden and seduced me.” She was the only person to have ever played the Devil. “She nags the very Hell out of me.” He waved his hands in a laconic gesture to emphasize his point. “Milton had it right, at one point I was a rebel. Now I’m a prisoner.”
“Its time sir” Clarke said as he looked at his watch, for the thousandth time that night. Just as Clarke informed the Devil of this, a car pulled up. The car was an ugly thing. It was a 1974 AMC Gremlin, colored white, with a distinctive rust coloration sporadically scattered throughout the vehicle. The car engine stopped running, but not before a large cloud of fumes shot out through the tail pipe.
Stepped out of the car was a disheveled woman, she looked like she was around thirty, give or take a few years. She had long, red hair, emerald green eyes, and a lovely figure. She wore an overcoat, even though it wasn’t all that cold outside. “Are you him?” The lovely looking woman asked.
“I am he.” The Devil replied. “This is my lawyer; he’s here to for the necessary paperwork.”
“I’m Clare St. Thomas. I hear you buy souls?” The reply was confident, almost chilling.
“That’s the rumor. What do you want? Fame? Be a rock-star? Or is it just cash? Lots and lots of cash.” He had the pitch of salesman.
“My little boy has cancer. His father isn’t around no more.”
“What kind of cancer? Did daddy run away, find a younger woman perhaps?” This wasn’t meant as a taunt, but a genuine inquiry. Lucifer felt intoxicated. He had never had a feeling like this ever, not even with Lilith. He thought that with Lilith, there had been love, but as he looked into the eyes of Claire, it donned on him, that it was nothing more than blind lust.
The look on Claire’s face gave nothing away, if she was insulted she hid it well. “Daddy died in Iraq. William, my son, has a brain tumor.”
“Have you tried praying?” asked the Devil.
“What do you think?”
Clarke stepped in for the first time since the conversation began. “Ma’am I’m afraid we are legally obligated to ask this question. You see, if you have prayed, and no reply has yet come before you meet us, then I’m afraid it isn’t part of God’s plan for your child to live.”
The Devil nodded in curt agreement.
“Is there nothing you can do? You can possess people, make them do horrible things but not prevent an innocent child from dying?” She cried as her passion, which was as great as her long, red hair was wavy flared.
The devil intervened. “I didn’t say I can’t do it. If you want a deal, you have a deal, but there are no guarantees.”
“What the Hell do you mean no goddamn guarantees?!” She was in the Devil’s face as she shouted this, he could feel the warmth of her breath, and hear the sound of her heart.
Again, Clarke spoke. “We can make a deal, but it will only work if the paperwork doesn’t get filed by the time you die.” He paused before he continued the explanation. “I cannot legally say that this will happen, but judging by the chaos of the system, I think we may have a deal. You know we still don’t have a computer system? We still use an endless case filled with library cards.” The last part Edward Clarke said flirtatiously.
This annoyed the Devil. “You’re done here, go back to Hell.” With a scream, and a sudden cloud of smoke Clark vanished
. “Now of course Claire, there are a few things you must know. Firstly, your son, assuming you die, before God gets the paperwork, has thirty-five years from this day to live. He will be cured, live a normal life, but the cancer will return, and it will be fatal next time. If you don’t die however before God gets the paperwork, you’ll son will die immediately, thus overriding our transaction. For consorting with me, you will go to Hell for all eternity. Well, unless you pray for forgiveness.” He coughed as he mumbled the last part.
She sat down to look as if she were contemplating the choice. In truth she knew very well what she would do. She was going to take the deal. This was a bluff. She didn’t even think what lunacy it was to try and fool the bold deceiver. She was confident. When the Devil said nothing but just stared hungrily at her for a few minutes, she finally spoke. “We have a deal”.
She signed the dotted line, she went back to her son, and the Devil went to Hell. The Devil forgot the dog food.
