The Devil and Danny Weber

I would like to thank my co-writers Eliot Wild and Lord Norry Wolfsbane for their suggestions, support and and encouragement and for taking the time to look carefully over my work for errors in grammar and mechanics.  This is a contest entry for the CSFS short story contest.  Below is the prompt.  I've chosen to write the story in a series of letters from the MC.  I hope you enjoy. 

Prompt 4

A man sits down for lunch with the Devil. Yes, the Devil! He gives him a choice: to spend the rest of his life with the woman who got away but he looses his soul, or he can keep his soul but will never have another chance with that person

March 3

Dear Uncle Ed:

It seems like ages since I last saw you. I hope this letter finds you in good health and in good spirits. I am doing well enough, although work continues to be stressful.

Do you remember that auditor I mentioned in my last letter? A Mr. Fenriz. My boss hired him a few weeks ago to look into the firm’s financial irregularities. We have been having a hell of a time connecting, but yesterday Mr. Fenriz finally caught up with me and insisted on a sit-down. My boss concurred, so I really had no choice in the matter.

It turns out Mr. Fenriz is a pretty decent fellow. Very understanding. Much more understanding than my boss, in fact. He’s not much to look at though – poor devil. I thought it indelicate to ask about the scarring, but I can’t help but wonder if he has considered plastic surgery.

Now that I have become a little acquainted with Mr. Fenriz, I am viewing this audit with far less trepidation than previously. In fact, we hit it off so well Damien invited me to join him for lunch at TGI Fridays later this week, and as a token of future friendship gave me a very unusual old coin which I believe will fetch me a nice profit on eBay.

As per your request, I have deposited funds in both yours’ and your cellmate’s accounts. I hope your application for a new cellmate is attended to soon. Dirk seems like a very unpleasant fellow.

Did I mention to you that Damien is well acquainted with Maureen, the girl whom I loved and lost so many years ago. I tried to ascertain her current location but Damien was quite coy and refused to give up any useful information. He hinted at a deal however, and promised that we could talk about it over lunch. I hope he isn’t expecting me to pay him for an address or phone number. That would be rather crass – don’t you think?

Lizzie sends her love.

Your devoted nephew,

Daniel

P.S. You will be happy to hear that I have finally prevailed upon Aunt Celia to remove your portrait from the dartboard although she is still determined to change the name of the bar to Celia’s Place as soon as she can afford the extra neon letters.

March 13

Dear Uncle Ed:

Thank you so much for your quick response to my last letter. Yes – there was a scarab on the coin. Is that significant? Unfortunately there isn’t the slightest chance I can give it back to Damien. The coin is now in the possession of a numismatist from Wichita who insisted on Priority Overnight shipping.

Lunch with Damien turned out to be quite an affair: fire and lightning - wind and rain- all accompanied by scary sound effects.  I don't think Damien is quite ready for America's Got Talent but still, considering his handicaps, it was an impressive magical display. I expect TGIF will be up and running again very soon and when you are out on parole I hope you will allow Lizzie and me to treat you to their endless lunch to commemorate the occasion.

Your devoted nephew,

Daniel

March 14

Dear Uncle Ed:

I know I wrote you just yesterday but I couldn't wait for even a second to share the news. I just got off the phone with Maureen, the girl I have dreamed of and yearned for since that fateful Prom night so many years ago. Never has a case of the chicken pox been so ill timed! For many years I harbored a secret resentment against Maureen for her cavalier attitude towards me during that distressing time but I have come to realize that I am partially to blame for our parting. I was the one, after all, who introduced her to that snake Roger with his ridiculous monster truck and Saturday Night Fever moves.

As I bitterly predicted, before being dragged out of the church, their marriage lasted just about as long as disco. Why are objections even a part of the ceremony if no one is going to take them seriously? Anyways - it is time to let bygones be bygones. Even though my parents and Lizzie have been less than supportive I am determined to meet with Maureen and facilitate some some sort of closure to that sad event that shaped my life in so many ways. Maureen and I will be meeting for drinks the day after tomorrow. Wish me luck.

Your devoted nephew,

Daniel

P.S. Still no luck with Aunt Celia. She remains convinced that you knew she was inside when the fire started. Rest assured, however, that I will continue to plead on your behalf.

March 17

Dear Uncle Ed:

It has happened. I have actually laid eyes on my beloved Maureen. I have kissed her cheek and touched her hand. I am in love. I am in heaven.

We met at Celia’s Place for drinks last night. She was everything I remembered – beautiful blond tresses, rosy cheeks, sweet gay disposition. Her merriment was so contagious, every time she laughed, heads turned in our direction.

Everything has been taken care of in regards to Lizzie – so no worries on that front. She will be getting a full refund from the caterers and I managed to get the down payment back from the hall we had rented for the happy occasion. I offered to refund her for the gown as well but she declined. She has a very sharp tongue and, it turns out, a rather extensive and colorful vocabulary. I am now fully convinced we would never have been happy together.

Good news on the work front as well. My former boss’s two Big Mac a day lunches finally caught up with him. We expect he will be released from the hospital soon but the scuttlebutt around the office is he won't be returning. So no more audit worries for me, thank God. Plus I got a raise.

Life is good.

Your devoted nephew,

Daniel

P.S. I am sure you will be happy to hear that business is thriving at Celia's Place and that Aunt Cee is holding up quite well. In fact, last night she was positively radiant. I have enclosed a snapshot of her beneath the new sign. A very flattering picture, don’t you think? The gentleman with his arm around her is the new bartender, Stanley. The good man has made it his mission in life to keep her spirits up.

March 24

Dear Uncle Ed:

You have become quite the letter writer Uncle Ed. I suppose there is little else to occupy your time in there. Have you considered weightlifting? It certainly wouldn’t hurt your case with Aunt Celia if you came out looking better than when you went in.

In answer to your question -yes - Damien has been a valuable assistant to me in this matter so close to my heart. Isn't that what friends are for?

Your devoted nephew,

Daniel

March 30

Dear Uncle Ed:

I am having trouble reconciling your hostility towards Damien, a man that, to my knowledge, you know nothing about, with the hale and farewell fellow who, in all the years I’ve known you, never met a stranger. I suppose life in the Big House must, perforce, make man more suspicious of his fellow man.

I did, indeed, sign a contract with Damien but the only thing I’m required to give up is Mr. Jingles (a very odd request…don’t you think?) But then again, Damien is a very odd man. I suppose he needs a dog for his magic act. Let’s face it though, Mr. Jingle’s is nearly twelve years old and even in his prime the ancient hound was never 100% in the house-training department. It doesn’t seem like a huge sacrifice considering I will be gaining my hearts desire and an eternity of happiness.

Your devoted nephew,

Daniel

April 5

Dear Uncle Ed:

Yes…the exact word in the contract was animus. How did you know? A typo, I assume. I don’t know how the man manages to type with those hands. He must have some sort of speech to type software.

Even though I am thrilled to be getting back together with Maureen I cannot help but have some regret regarding Mr. Jingles. He is laying next to my desk now, snoring loudly, and passing gas in my general direction. Occasional accident in the house aside, he has been a good and faithful companion to me. I wonder when Damien will be dropping by to pick him up.

Your devoted nephew,

Daniel

April 10

Dear Uncle Ed:

Maureen and her son Peter, a fine strapping lad of seventeen, have taken up residence in my small garden apartment (some misunderstanding with her landlady, from what I gather ). I was thrilled and a little surprised when they knocked on my door last week, garbage bags full of their possessions, and asked if they might stay a few days. I had no idea Maureen even knew where I lived. We are a little cramped for space but I expect Maureen will begin looking for a new place very soon.

Please communicate to Dirk that I am unable to deposit the full amount he requested into his account as I have had some unexpected expenses involving my new extended family this week. I hope I will be able to catch up next week.

Your devoted nephew,

Daniel

April 16

Dear Uncle Ed:

I just received your startling letter this morning. I am not sure which part of it I find more distressing: that you think Damien is the devil or that you think you sold your soul for a bar. Really Uncle Ed? A bar? Why not Trump Tower or the Taj Mahal?

In all seriousness though, Uncle Ed. I understand that you have been under a great deal of stress of late. Do they offer mental health services in the penitentiary? If so I suggest you avail yourself of them (and perhaps you could talk Dirk into a few anger management sessions as well). It would do both of you a world of good.

April 22

Dear Uncle Ed:

Have you heard of Spanx? They are a new women’s undergarment and apparently are all the rage. If I had any money to spare right now I promise you I would be investing in those remarkable garments. Their application produces amazing results - their absence – especially in the sober light of morning - alarming. I know this sounds a little petty– especially since I cannot claim to be completely unweathered by the passing of the years – but I wonder if Maureen realizes that the positive effects of drinking lite beer are somewhat diminished after the second six-pack.

Peter seems like a nice enough boy although he's got a swagger identical to his father's at that age. He looks very much like Roger too: lanky, tall and blond.  Same philosophy in regards to schoolwork too, apparently.  He has been here two weeks and I've yet to see him crack a book.  I suppose it's none of my business.  Mr. Jingles has taken a real shine to the boy.  He follows him everywhere and has even taken to sleeping next to him on the couch.  Maureen says Roger shows no interest at all in his son.  Poor kid.

I'd better sign off before Peter starts another marathon shower and uses up all the hot water.

Your devoted nephew,

Daniel

P.S. you will be surprised to hear that Aunt Cece has taken a real shine to Peter. I would never have suspected she was the maternal type. In fact, she has offered him a job at the bar, busing tables and such. She even suggested that he stay at her place, in the spare bedroom, on the nights he works too late (which would certainly make things less cramped at home).  Much to my aunt’s disappointment, Peter has declined, citing the twin burdens of schoolwork and taking care of his mother as reasons to remain unemployed. He is a good and dutiful son.

May 5

Dear Uncle Ed:

I’m sorry it has been two weeks since my last letter. I have not been sleeping well. The television blares day and night and on those rare occasions when there are no Price is Right reruns available on cable, Maureen is beside me snoring loud enough to wake the dead.

Peter divides his time equally between eating me out of house and home and trying to figure out the password to unlock parental controls for the television.  If he spent half as much time on homework as he spends quizzing me about birthdays, my mother's maiden name and my favorite authors he'd be on the honor roll.

At the risk of sounding fickle I am beginning to believe that my forced separation from Maureen those many years ago was fate and that it was extreme hubris on my part to try to affect this reunion.

The one good piece of news I have to impart is that Damien has not stopped by to pick up Mr. Jingles yet. I will miss the old flea bag terribly when he goes. I wonder if Damien might reconsider this contract.

Your devoted nephew,

Daniel

P.S. I am sorry to hear about your argument with Dirk. I hope your stay in the infirmary has been a pleasant one and that you are well on the road to recovery. Please tell Dirk that I have cashed out my IRA and hope to have the funds deposited in his account by the end of the week (with interest, as per his instructions).

May 18

Dear Uncle Ed:

I am writing this letter cheek to jowl with the most acrid, the most foul-mouthed, man on the planet. A man who seems determined to verbally abuse, at the top of his lungs, his entire list of contacts in the course of one interminably long bus ride. Yes, that’s right, I am on the bus: Foul smelling blasphemer on my left, giggly mini-skirted flirter on my right (male…very awkward…nice perfume though). I am on the bus because my beautiful, fuel efficient, silver Toyota Prius with heated leather seats went for a joyride last night that ended badly, courtesy of the boy Peter and all of his delinquent friends. Peter apparently enjoys Grand Theft above all things (certainly above school, gainful employment and, it seems, driver’s education).

Maureen did bestir herself, during a commercial break, to reprimand Peter for not asking for permission before borrowing the car. That was the extent of parental intervention on her part. She spent the rest of the night braying at the television and knocking back cans of Coors Lite, showing remorse for my poor little car only when she realized it’s absence meant no one was going to be popping down to Gas and Gulp to get her another six pack. I considered filing charges but Peter begged me not to, promising to find a job to pay me back for my deductible.  Sadly, the boy seems destined for a life of criminal aimlessness.  It seems a terrible waste.

To put it mildly, the bloom is off the rose. And worse – I seems to be stuck with the damn rose. Every time I mention her finding her own place Maureen just stares at me with those big blank blue eyes, no longer even pretending she exists for any other reason than to take up space, use up resources, and torment me. I may have to call Damien for advice on how to handle this situation. She is an immovable object and I seem to be a highly resistible force.

Your devoted nephew,

Daniel

May 27

Dear Uncle Ed:

I am discouraged. I met Damien for coffee yesterday morning to discuss my current unsatisfactory living arrangement with Maureen. Since he was so eager to be the instrument of our reunification I had hoped that he would be just as anxious to help me out of my current predicament (or at least provide the extra muscle required to pry Maureen from my apartment). He refuses to lift a finger to help. Not only that, he claims that he really is the devil. He was, in fact, highly affronted when I refused to believe him.

Here is the gist of our conversation: he thinks he is the devil; that by animus he means soul and not basset hound; that he is acquainted with you.

Although I don't believe a word of it - I think I shall spend the evening giving my contract the careful once over I should have given it earlier – oh for the days when I still took ritilin and could concentrate for more than five minutes at a time.

May 28

Dear Uncle Ed:

It is almost too much for me to comprehend. And it strikes me as monumentally unfair that the most important part of the contract was written in a dead language. Don’t you agree? I also cannot begin to convey to you the depth of my regret for re-gifting those word-a-day calendars you have given me for Christmas, these past twenty years. I wonder if I would have found myself in this predicament if I’d kept them. Although, who knows if Latin words were even included.

I am not saying I believe the pair of you but after the show Damien put on at the coffee shop yesterday I am starting to waiver. It was all fun and games until somebody lost an eye. Not me thank heavens, but still, that poor girl.

Here is what I discovered. The contract is due to expire in seven years (that is, apparently, standard). Until that time, however, I can exercise my escape clause, thank God. I will require that coin I so heedlessly parted with however and the coin collector in Wichita refuses point blank to part with it, even for double the money. I fear I have no choice but to travel to Wichita to try to talk some sense into him. I’m off tomorrow morning.

Wish me luck,

Daniel

May 29

Dear Uncle Ed:

The plane was overbooked but they’ve put me on a flight tomorrow afternoon. I’ll write you as soon as I’ve made contact with the coin dealer in Wichita.

May 30

Dear Uncle Ed:

My rental car, a squat ugly Ford Focus, had a flat tire this morning. Peter, who should have been in school but, of course, wasn’t, helped me change my tire, but I still managed to miss my flight. So until tomorrow morning I remain here in Miami. I think I will take the precaution of spending the night at the airport.

P.S. June 1: A snow storm. In Miami. In June. I must say, Damien certainly does not believe in playing fair.

P.P.S. June 2: Plane returned to the airport due to mechanical problems.

P.P.P.S June 6: Hijacked – stuck on a tarmac in Cuba.  After letting most of the passengers go, the hijackers very kindly allowed the remaining passengers (me and an insurance salesman named Hank from Tulsa) to get word out to our relatives that we are being treated well.  I've learned a few Spanish phrases and purchased some additional life insurance but beyond that there is little to do but play solitaire or watch Hank and the hijackers play charades.

June 7

Dear Uncle Ed:

I am back home again. The rental car is packed and I’ll be off as soon as I post this letter to you. I have decided to forgo air travel since, obviously, that is not working out for me. I fully expect to have fender benders, mechanical trouble with my car and poor gas mileage but I am nothing if not persistent. I have seven years. I will walk to Witchita if I have to. Peter has been begging me incessantly to take him with me and since school is no longer in session (not that Peter has anything more than a passing acquaintance with high school) I suppose I will let him tag along.  He is a good mechanic and he can help me with Mr. Jingles as well.  Yes, Mr. Jingles will be a passenger as well - I certainly wouldn't trust him to Maureen's tender care and he seems to have become a permanent fixture at Peter's side anyways. 

Your devoted nephew,

Daniel

June 14

Dear Uncle Ed:

Passing time in Tupelo Mississippi while we're waiting for Mr. Jingles to recover from food poisoning (although honestly I suspect malingering on Mr. J.'s part in an effort to avoid re-entry into the car).  The radio in our rental car will not turn off and is stuck permanently on KCKS 96.5, Klassic Country Krap- compliments, I'm sure, of an ugly bitter ex-angel who delights in making my life a living hell.  As soon as the ignition is cranked, the howling begins.  Mr. Jingles and I just look at each other and sigh.  The boy can't sing a lick. 

June 18

Dear Uncle Ed:

Blessed silence.  The Ford was carjacked last night at a rest stop outside of Little Rock by a pair of unshaven, beefy looking criminals who emerged from the shadows while we were curbing Mr. Jingles.  Peter wanted to fight for the cursed vehicle but I advised a hasty retreat to the little boy's room - the younger girl had arms as big around as my waist.  I'm guessing they will learn the error of their felonious ways soon enough as KCKS was only halfway through it's Hank William's marathon when the theft occurred.

July 1

Dear Uncle Ed:

We are a little short of money so Peter and I have both taken jobs picking cherries for one of the local orchards to tide us over until my credit cards have been replaced (an unimaginative Little Rock mugging that barely registered a blip on my radar screen).  Could it be we are wearing Damien down?  It goes without saying that replacing the cards has been fraught with unexpected delays and unforeseen computer glitches but right now I am healthy and hale and one of my fellow pickers gave Peter a harmonica to forestall any urges he might have to break into song. We have settled into a tenuous sort of happiness.  Long days of climbing up and down ladders have done me a world of good.  My back is strong, I am feeling fit as a fiddle and even Mr. J. has a spring in his step.  He has his eye on a cute little dachshund the next cabin over.  In the absence of television or a computer Peter spends his evenings reading, writing his mother, and teaching Mr. Jingles to roll over and play dead. 

Although I must continue my quest soon, I will always look upon this interlude with great fondness.

I promised Peter I would teach him how to play Nertz so I'll sign off for now.

Your devoted nephew,

Daniel

P.S. Unfortunately I will not be able to make any deposits into Dirk's account this month but when I called Aunt Celia to explain your predicament she was overjoyed to hear you needed her help.  So no worries on that front.  I believe she is softening towards you!

August 5

Dear Uncle Ed:

I am in Wichita.  I am in jail. I had the coin.  I do not have it now and I'm not sure how I should feel about that.

Here is what happened:

It wasn't easy but we survived the ten plagues of Egypt to finally arrive in Wichita late yesterday night.  Although he begged to be included, Peter was still rather sore from his recent appendectomy so I dropped him and Mr. Jingles off at the Motel 6 before heading over to talk with the coin collector.  Besides, I was not going to involve Peter in any sort of criminal activity.  Yes…I gave up long ago the idea that I would be able to procure the coin through legal means. 

The collector was somewhat reluctant to let me in and even barred the front door but I climbed a tree and scampered up onto the roof easily enough.  The climb was child's play compared to the ascent I made last week during the flash flood in Fort Smith.  And this time I had two hands free as I didn't have to carry Mr. Jingles.  From the roof it was a hop, skip and a jump into the master bedroom.  After reassuring the Mrs. that I meant no harm I proceeded to the den where I disarmed the numismatist with only the loss of my left pinkie finger (a useless digit that I hardly miss).  From there it took very little time to convince the fellow to part with the coin.  Indeed, I think he was more upset than I was when the gun misfired.  We ruined a lovely area rug. 

Then it was back to the motel to pick up the boys.  As far as I was concerned, I was home free.  And then the unthinkable happened.  Peter, that unflappable young man who has been through tornados, earthquakes and a nasty case of Athete's Foot without batting an eye, took one look at the coin and burst into inconsolable tears.  It seems the boy has had his own encounter with that damned Damien and his damned coin. 

I ask you Uncle Ed - what would you have done?

My lawyer has just arrived so I must close now. 

Your devoted nephew,

Daniel

August 7

Dear Uncle Ed:

What do you think he asked Damien for?  He asked for a father.

Daniel

September 3

Dear Peter:

I hope this letter finds you and Mr. Jingles in good health and in good spirits and I hope you have kept your word to me in regards to your school work.  I have arranged for the settlement over the loss of my pinkie finger to go towards the rent on my apartment so you and your mother will have a place to stay until you graduate.  You will be hoofing it or riding the bus however, as the Prius has been sold to pay for your first year at community college.  Please drop me a line when you get a chance and let me know how you are doing.

Please do not worry about me as I am doing quite well.  The transfer from Wichita to Florida State Prison was smooth and uneventful compared to the trip you and I took this summer going in the opposite direction and I am settled into a sparse but very comfortable cell.  I am enrolled in an online accounting class and I've also started a twelve step impulse control support group that has proved to be very popular among my fellow inmates.  My own Uncle Ed is a regular attendee and even Dirk attends occasionally.  We are a lively group, always jumping from step one to step six and then back to step four.  We may, in fact, scrap the twelve step group entirely in favor of ballroom dancing. 

I miss you and Mr. Jingles terribly.  Be sure to send me a recent picture in your next missive.  And remember to keep an eye out for any old coins with scarabs on them.  I have a feeling one will turn up very soon. 

Don't take any wooden nickels.  In fact, stick to paper money or debit cards just to be on the safe side.  I'm off to laundry duty.

More later,

All my love,

Daniel