The Devil Came Down
February 6, 2014
What follows is a tale from a bygone era. During a time when if you wanted to know the time you wore a watch or asked someone wearing a watch or found a clock. A necessary call, when not at home, meant finding a pay phone. When a chat room was an actual room, where you actually chatted, with actual people. A time when the forces of evil would have to seek you out in person as opposed to learning your email address. When smoking was not only allowed but encouraged in every public facility. Which is exactly what yours truly was engaged in when the devil came a calling.
It started on what was a typical Friday afternoon. It would finish on a similar note but that’s much later and at this point irrelevant. Not sure about the time, because I didn’t wear a watch and didn’t care. For those of you who need a time frame let’s just say the sun was dragging towards its sitting point as I entered a smoker friendly bar/dining establishment.
The familiar greeting and warm smile of a familiar waitress, who was fairly easy on the eyes, was lost on me as usual. The usual table for one, seated near the door, in the corner. This position gave a gratuitous yet noninvasive view of the room. It also gave quick access to the egress. Ideal for people-watching, which goes good with a meal. Placing my order, only slightly aware of the light flirtations of my hostess, then finally left alone to my own devices. Savoring the sweet taste of the cig I lit as a prerequisite to my meal. It would pass the time and pique my appetite.
It took all of a handful of seconds and three slow drags on the cig for me to sort out the bar scene and sight the two most interesting patrons. Interesting not because either stood out but because neither belonged. If you were playing the game of “what’s wrong with this picture” they were it. The first was a tall rather lanky fellow seated at the bar. He wore a plain, tan baseball cap over shoulder length hair, a white t-shirt with a tan fisherman’s vest, khaki pants and flip-flops. His face was unshaven and he sported a short, mangy-looking unkempt beard. But the most intriguing aspect was that he looked clean. Not like he was well groomed and showered regularly but clean...how to make this make sense?
He was so clean that compared to his fellow patrons and surroundings he damn near glowed. Not to mention the fact that he was seated at the bar drinking a tall glass of tap water with another one waiting, which the two fellows seated on either side of him seemed to have no problem with.
By their actions the three were obviously strangers but there was a sense of camaraderie in their casual manner of speaking. He spared me a glance with a look of...was that sorrow or compassion. With this my attention shifted to the second who was already looking my way.
She had the look of a pubescent wet dream. The look in her dark green eyes and smile on her succubus lips promised to make that dream come true. Her silky, dirty blonde hair framed her face and rested on her ample bosom. She smiled as she stood in the short silver mini-tube dress which she had obviously been poured into. Crossing the floor with all the grace and limpid poise of a jungle cat, soundless in three inch heels. She stood out for the obvious but didn’t belong for other reasons. It wasn’t that she was too hot or sexy, it was almost if reality fell short of her making her more there than anything else.
The moment was lost in eternity and she was coveted and caressed with the eyes of all she passed. She flowed into the seat across from me like liquid velvet just as my food arrived. My waitress scoffed, all evidence of flirtation gone, as she literally dropped the plate before me. Personally, I was too distracted, cursing my inability to smell. Because if I could, I’m sure she carried the scent of pure evil. Of course even if I could smell, the question of what pure evil smells like would be in question. Either way, if I could I’m certain she would have reeked of it. Then she spoke and her voice coated my brain like electric honey. “Hello Nicholas, I want you.”
Who is this mysterious woman who may or may not smell evil? What does she want? Who’s Nicholas? Who is the sad-eyed clean guy at the bar? What part does he play? What’s the lunch special? Learn all this and more next week as we continue with the next exciting chapter of whatever this is.
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