MicroHorror

The Devil came to visit me last night, rapping loudly at the front door as if trying to evade some pursuant mob of rabid Jehovah’s Witnesses. I stared at him through the peephole, my observant eyes catching his wary glances to the side, his immaculate slicked-back hair and his neatly trimmed black goatee. Then, his penetrating gaze stared back, and I knew he could see right through the door, right into the depths of my very soul, and since I wasn’t doing anything anyway, I went ahead and slid the deadbolt open.

We had our customary handful of King’s Ale, but it wasn’t until we were a good two hours at the PlayStation that he finally opened up and told me what was on his mind. Mr. Thomas, from across the street, was going to kick the bucket soon, and in a most spectacular fashion, Lucifer intimated. The middle-aged man seemed to me to be in perfect health, I countered, having witnessed him taking hour-long jogs every other morning. The Devil sat pensive a few moments, quietly irritated at my interruption, before he informed me that the impending demise was not to be of natural causes. The problem, he continued, was that he could not decide whom to enlist on his murderous task.

Together, we went through his short list of candidates, crossing each name off due to their various shortcomings; some were too naïve to get away with such a despicable act, or too complicated to be coerced quickly, or out of town for the next few days. When the Devil scratched a line through the final person, he casually leaned forward on the sofa, placing his elbows on his knees, and eyeing me anxiously.

Once the idea had crept past my alcoholic stupor, I could see what he was getting at, and since I wasn’t doing much at the time anyway, I said sure, I’d do it. The Devil smiled and told me that he knew I would, and just before he left he told me he owed me one.

I closed the door behind him, wondering what I would ask him for the next time I saw him. I still had enough money to last me quite a while, plus I had the new stereo system sitting in the living room, and that tricked-out Jet Ski in the garage. I’d have to think of something pretty soon, I figured, since the Devil was always dropping by and asking me for favors. And let me tell you, that guy was not one to be kept waiting.