Sympathy for the Devil

The Devil walked up behind me and handed me a sixteen-ounce Rolling Rock. “There she is in all her splendor,” he said, as he handed a beer to Christ. “Doesn’t look like much of an opportunity here unless she’s go

We stood and stared at her. She was about sixty-five with short hair dyed brown and wearing a flowered bathrobe. On the coffee table in front of her sat an ashtray with a lit cigarette in one of the holders. In her left hand she held a glass of ark wine. As the daily reports of mayhem and greed came through the box, she shook her head from time to time and sipped her drink.

“What’s she done?” I asked.

“She brought a kid back from the dead a few months ago,” said the Devil. “A girl was hit by a car outside a local grocery store. Mrs. Lumley, here, was present and just touched the girl’s hand. The kid got right up off the stretcher and walked away.”

“Strange shit,” said Christ. “We don’t really know how it works.”

“You mean,” I said, “that you can’t make her do a miracle?”

“Not exactly,” said Christ.

“That’s a bitch, isn’t it?” said the Devil. “Now drink your beer and calm down.”

The Devil walked around behind Mrs. Lumley’s chair and used two fingers to make horns behind her head. Christ went to pieces over that one. I even had to laugh while we watched her pick her nose. She was at it for a good five minutes. Christ applauded her every strategy, and the Devil said, “The one that got away.”

“We better sit down. This may take a few minutes,” said Christ.

The Devil and I sat down on the couch and Christ took an old rocker across from us. The evil one rolled another huge joint and listened intently to the report on television of a murder/suicide in California. Mrs. Lumley began singing “The Whispering Wind” to herself in between sips of wine while Christ hummed in a duet with her.

“I’ve had more fun in church,” said the Devil, as he passed me the joint. Again, I tasted the ci

Christ begged off and just rocked contentedly in his chair.

The news eventually ended and Jeopardy came on the television. “Wait till I get my hooks into this asshole,” the Devil said, nodding toward the host of the show.

“He’s yours,” said Christ. “It’s on me.” Then he pointed his finger at Mrs. Lumley and made her change the cha

While we waited for something to happen, the Devil showed me a trick. He took a big draw of Carthage Red and then exhaled it in a perfect globe of smoke. The globe hovered in the air before my eyes and turned crystal clear. Then it was filled with an image of my wife and kids reading bedtime stories. When I reached for it, the globe popped like a soap bubble.

“Parlor tricks,” said Christ.

Eventually, Mrs. Lumley got up, turned off the set, and went into her bedroom. We followed her as far as the door, where we looked in at her. She was kneeling next to the bed, saying her prayers.

“I hope you like the heat,” the Devil said to me.

Then Christ said, “Look.”

Mrs. Lumley lay on the floor, her body twitching. A steady groan escaped through her clenched teeth. In seconds, her skin had become a metallic blue and her head had doubled in size. Fangs, claws, gills, audibly popped from her features. She turned her head to face us, and I could feel she was actually seeing us with her expanding eyes.

“Shit,” said the Devil, and turned and ran toward the door.

“Let’s get out of here,” said Christ, and he too turned and ran. I followed close behind.

By the time we got outside, the Devil was sticking his head out of the back-seat window of the car. “Move your asses,” he yelled.

I ran around the front of the car and climbed in the driver’s seat as fast as I could. Mrs. Lumley, now some kind of rapidly changing blue creature, growled from the front lawn. I turned on the ignition and hit the gas.

“What the fuck was that supposed to be?” said Christ, catching his breath as he passed us each a cigarette.

“Your old man is out of his mind,” said the Devil. “It’s all getting just a little too strange.”

“Tell me about it,” said Christ. “Remember, I warned you back when they first walked on the moon.”

“This is some really evil shit, though,” said the Devil.

“The whole ball of wax is falling apart,” said Christ.

“I actually had a break-out in the ninth hole of Hell last week,” said the Devil. “A big bastard-he smashed right through the ice. Killed one demon with his bare hands and broke another one’s back.”

“Did you get him?” I asked.

“One of my people said she saw him in Chicago.”

“Purgatory is spreading like the plague,” said Christ.

The Devil leaned up close behind me and put his claw hand on my shoulder. I could feel his hot breath on the back of my neck. “His old man is reading Nietzshe,” he whispered, his tongue grazing my earlobe.

“What’s he saying?” Christ asked me.

“Which way am I supposed to turn to get out of this development?” I asked.

Just then there was an abrupt bump on the top of the car. It startled me and I swerved, almost hitting a garbage can.

“You gotta check this out,” said the Devil. “Saint Lumley of the Bad Trips is flying over us.”

“Punch the gas,” yelled Christ, and I floored it. I drove like a maniac, screeching around corners as the pastel ranches flew by.

“We’re starting to lose her,” the Devil called out.

“What are you carrying?” Christ asked.

“I’ve got a full minute of fire,” said the Devil. “What have you got?”

“I’ve got the Machine of Eden,” said Christ.

“Uhh, not The fucking Machine of Eden,” said the Devil, and slammed the back of my seat.

“What do you mean?” said Christ.

“When was the last time that thing worked?”

“It works,” said Christ.

“Pull off and go through the gate up on your right,” said the Devil. “We’ve got to take her out or she’ll dog us for eternity.”

“I don’t like this at all,” said Christ.

After passing the gate, I drove on a winding gravel road that led to the local landfill. There were endless moonlit hills of junk and garbage. I parked the car and we got out.

“We’ve got to get to the top of that hill before she gets here,” said Christ, pointing to a huge mound of garbage.

I scrabbled up the hill, clutching at old car seats and stepping on dead appliances. Startled rats scurried through the debris. When I reached the top I was sweating and panting. Christ beat me, but I had to reach down and help the Devil up the last few steps.

“It’s the hooves,” he said, “they’re worse than high heels.”

“There’s some cool stuff here,” said Christ.

“I saw a whole carton of National Geographics I want to snag on the way out,” said the Devil.

Off in the distance, I saw the shadow of something passing in front of the stars. It was too big to be a bird. “Here she comes,” I yelled and pointed. They both spun around to look. “What do I do?” I asked.

“Stay behind us,” said Christ. “If she gets you, it’s going to hurt.”

The next thing I knew, Mrs. Lumley had landed and we three were backed against the edge of the hill with a steep drop behind us. Her blue skin shone in the moonlight like armor, but there were tufts of hair growing from it. She had this amazing aqua body and an eight-foot wingspan, but with the exception of the gills and fangs, she still had the face of a sixty-five-year-old woman. She moved slowly toward us, burping out words that made no sense.

When she came within a few feet of us, Christ said, “Smoke ’em if you got ’em,” and the Devil stepped forward. Tentacles began to grow from her body toward him. One managed to wrap itself around his left horn when he opened his mouth to assault her with a minute of fire. The flame discharged like a blowtorch and stopped her cold. When she was completely engulfed in the blaze, the tentacles retracted, but she would not melt.