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The Bell... FROM HELL!!!
Jeff Strand
I own a bell forged by Satan himself. With it, I can summon the Prince of Darkness to our plane of existence. I often think about doing it, but I fear my own power.
Some question the authenticity of the bell. "No way did Satan make that," they say. "If Satan made a bell, it would be, like, some big, scary-looking thing made out of black iron with pentagrams carved into it, and, I du
Of them I ask, "Why would you assume that Lucifer is proficient in bell-making skills?" William Shakespeare may have been the most brilliant writer in human history, but did he know how to successfully milk a cow? Doubtful. Everybody has their own skill set. I don't see why Satan's bell must be an unholy spectacle to convince people of its origin. It was his first attempt. It's not going to be the Liberty Bell.
The price tag I can't explain. Some phenomena are beyond the understanding of mortal man, and should remain that way.
Sometimes my co-workers snatch the bell from my desk and ring it, just to tease and infuriate me. Wretched souls. "Uh-oh!" they say. "The devil's go
No, I did not get the bell from Satan directly. It's ridiculous to think that I would have. I'm not so caught up in feelings of self-worth and ego to think that Satan would feel the need to personally deliver his gift to me, any more than the president of the United States has to hand deliver a certificate of commendation for it to be a thoughtful gesture. One of his minions presented me with the bell three months ago.
This is where my frustration with my co-workers becomes almost unbearable. Yes, Satan's minion took human form. Because of this fact, my co-workers constantly insist that it was not a demon at all, but rather a homeless man selling junk he'd stolen from the dollar store. Logic eludes them. Why do they think that Satan would be stupid enough to send a scaly, red-ski
Oh, I guess I should point out that I'm not a devil worshiper. I can see where you might get the wrong idea.
I'm actually a reasonably devout Christian, which is why it surprised me more than anybody when the minion sold me the bell for such a low price. I would've expected him to choose somebody who practices the dark arts, or listens to evil music, or at least reads Harry Potter. But, no, I was chosen.
I don't want to see Hell on earth or a thousand years of darkness or anything like that. If I do end up summoning Satan, it'll be to defeat him.
My co-workers have a great big laugh at that. I'm fully aware of how it sounds, but I wish they'd give me credit for not being a complete idiot. I'm not saying that I'm going to whip out my +3 vorpal sword and lop off Beelzebub's head for eight thousand experience points; I'm just saying that if I did use, the bell, I could conceivably summon him under circumstances where his evil would be vanquished once and for all.
"Whatcha go
"No," I say, trying not to let my impatience show. "I am not going to trap him under a net. His skin would burn right through it." How can he be so highly paid and yet so ignorant?
"Go
I sigh. "I don't have martial arts skills."
"Really? I thought you were, like, a ninja or something."
He's making my brain hurt. "I admire ninjas. I'm not one myself."
"Bummer."
"It's not a bummer. I have no interest in taking a human life."
"But you're trying to kill Satan."
"I never said I was trying to kill Satan. All I've said is that if I can figure out a way to trap him, I might summon him with the bell. That's a pretty big 'if.' I'm not trying to pass myself off as some mighty devil hunter—I'm just saying that if I figured out a workable plan, I might try to rid the world of him. Give me a frickin' break."
Rick jiggles the bell. "It doesn't even really ring. It just sort of clacks around."
"Well, gee, perhaps a fallen angel has better hearing than you do. Did you ever think of that?" His stupidity is beyond belief.
"I've gotta tell you, Howie, I'm not quite buying the whole devil bell thing."
I've never claimed to be perfect. Sometimes I suffer from the sin of pride. And on that day, I simply couldn't take the ridicule anymore. I snatched the bell out of Rick's hand and began to ring. I rang it ten times. Twenty. Thirty.
Rick stood there, a smirk on his face. Oh, how I would enjoy seeing that smirk ripped off and boiled in bile by Lucifer himself.
I continued to shake the bell, counting each tinkle. Forty-six, forty-seven, forty-eight...
"I've gotta go," said Rick.
"You're not going anywhere," I told him. "You don't believe me? I'll prove it to you, once and for all."
Fifty-three, fifty-four, fifty-five ...
"How many rings does it take?"
"Six hundred and sixty-six."
"Is it cumulative?"
"What do you mean?"
"Do my rings count?"
"No. One person in one session."
"What are you up to?"
"Ninety."
Sarah, who sits three cubicles behind me, approaches with a cup of coffee. "What's going on?"
"Howie's summoning Satan."
Sarah smiles. "You figured out how to vanquish him?"
I shake my head and keep ringing. "I'm just teaching Rick a lesson."
"Pretty harsh lesson if Satan does show up."
"I'm teaching all of you a lesson," I a
"How many rings is that now?" Rick asks.
"One hundred and forty-one."
"Can you call me when you're at six hundred?"
His condescending tone makes me want to watch his eternal torment even more. I ring harder and faster.
In the back of my mind, I question the wisdom of summoning Satan without an escape plan, but I'm far too a
A crowd begins to gather. They all look amused. I can't wait to see the amusement on their faces transform into a distinct lack of amusement.
I've sort of lost count of the number of rings at this point—I think I'm around three hundred—but the summoning doesn't require me to stop at exactly six hundred and sixty-six rings, so if I go over I won't mess things up. I just need to keep track enough that I know when to duck and cover.
"Shouldn't we make Satan a welcome ba
Patricia, who is also from Corporate Accounting (their area is right next to mine), looks at me sadly. She's always been nice to me and I harbor a secret crush on her, despite her being thirty-two years my senior. "C'mon, Howie, knock it off. You-don't have to prove anything."
If I could have taken her statement to mean "because I believe you," that would've been good enough and I would have ceased ringing the bell. Unfortunately, she clearly means "because nothing will happen and you'll look like an idiot," and so I must continue.