Satan's Office

I shifted in my seat uneasily as I looked around a big oval shaped waiting room. I looked down and stared at the dark hard wood floors for minutes while I carried on a one sided dialogue in my head. Why am I here again?



The chair I was sitting in was very plush and comfortable but I was not really enjoying it. The long room was getting filled up with people and it was only 8:30 am. A woman in her late twenties, maybe, came over and sat across from me. She had long, thick bleach blonde hair that over laid a tan, thin physique. She looked like a model. Her makeup was flawless and her outfit was instantly making me covet and feel an overwhelming urge to go shopping and buy something just as becoming, if not better. She flicked her hair and smirked at me while she sat down. With her nose stuck in the air she lifted her Gucci purse on her lap and pulled out her Ipod. For the next few minutes I just watched her as  she flipped through magazines and tapped her feet to her music. A new expression crossed her face with every turn of a page. Her eyes would dart across the pictures of celebrities and fashion and tips on becoming more beautiful and more successful. Each glance revealed her unsatisfied soul. Envy. Jealousy. Pride. Selfishness. I was beginning to feel sorry for her. Her life seemed consumed with Hollywood and dreams that would never come true. My guess, she was starving herself to stay in her model like clothes. She would occasionally peek up at me and just smirk and bob her head to the music and keep flipping pages.



When I finally managed to look away from Barbie, I turned to the right when I heard the door open. A haggard looking man trudged in the waiting room with sorrow pouring from his glazed eyes. He took one of the only open seats left, next to me. His clothes were dirty and had rips in them. When he plumped down into the soft cushion the aroma of alcohol, weed, and bad hygiene over came me. He turned to me and nodded. His eyes were red around the rims. I nodded back but had to turn away so to not reveal what repulsion I was really feeling. I turned straight in my chair as my eyes drilled into Barbie again. I realized I was holding my breath. I slowly exhaled as my peripheral vision beheld scars on the man’s arms. There were scars on his wrists and tracks running up his forearm to his elbow. He pulled out something rolled up from his pocket and lit it up. When it reached his lips, the man started to cry and moan. His hands were trembling as he whimpered.



The uneasiness grew and I was practically rocking in my chair. I had a lump in my throat. This comfortable, chic waiting room was filled with people like I just described and every other caliber in between. Was it really worth it coming here again? The thought of last week’s church service flashed through my head and sent a spasm of pain through my heart. My bitterness charred the memory in seconds and I sat in my seat more sure of myself. I remembered why I was here.



The assistant finally called my name. I was ushered into the office. There were frames with appealing words inside them hanging on the one wall. Words like Happiness, Success, Power, Love. The office was rather large and was exactly the same as I had remembered. The main wall was all windows that over looked incredible views. The other walls were all shelves with books on them. It was a very modern looking library. Everything in the office was fresh, clean, and bright, yet sophisticated and so appealing. Music was playing softly in the background. I felt uncomfortable. But it was such a nice atmosphere. I was here to get help, to find out my personal secret to happiness, to get the things I most desired and wanted out of life. The uneasiness came back and something inside of me was gnawing its way through my cast iron heart. Its like it was saying this was all a façade. But this place was high class and luxurious. This place was up to date with how the world worked and was only helping others get what would make them most happy. The assistant led me to a wide, leather chair facing a big desk with volumes stacked on one end. A calendar, lamp, and phone were situated in the center while the other end held up a large vase of blood red roses and dishes of appetizers and chocolates. The assistant smiled through her teeth and told me to help myself to the food and that he would be right in to see me.



I wasn’t even hungry but the chocolates looked so tempting. I ate one and found myself reaching for a second, and third. I stopped myself in embarrassment for my lack of self control. I smelled the roses. The sweet scent was intoxicating and the petals were velvety soft to the touch. I walked over to the window and gasped when I looked down. It looked so high from where I was standing. The thought of 9/11 spun in my head and I stepped back a bit dizzy. I walked back over to the desk but one of the volumes caught my eye. Most of the volumes on his desk were black but this one was red. A deep crimson red. I looked at all the other books on the shelves and noticed that they were all either black or red. I looked back to the book that was now in my hands. It was open to today’s date and had a picture of a man. It was the same man that was sitting next to me in the waiting room. I flipped back to the first pages. His name was Sherman. It had his birthday and other numbers next to his name that I didn’t understand their purpose. He was only thirty one years old. He looked so much older to me. I began looking through the pages and Sherman’s life was accounted for in detail. I was shocked. It looked like he was raised in a religious home until his mother left for another man. He was very athletic and smart but dropped out of college and gave into an aggressive life of drugs and alcohol. This sent chills down my spine. Now I was sure there was a book about me. I went over to the walls and hoped it was alphabetized. After looking a few minutes I found my book. It was also red.



I opened it and thought I was looking at my baby book. I kept turning pages and every page had a picture of me for every new year. Some of my best memories and most embarrassing moments were recorded. There were pictures of my family and friends as well. How did they get all these? My adrenaline started to race as I kept reading. There were organized lists of every aspect of my existence. One page was just on all my habits. Another page was all about things that make me smile. My stomach grew weak and I felt faint. The next lists were things I hated most, things that discourage me most, and themost efficient ways to torment me. Memories now gushed my mind and my bitterness and hard skin could no longer hold back what was meant to be forgotten. Detailed stories of my past and things I had done were on the following pages. My vision began to blur. Tears started forming in my eyes and my fingers started shaking while holding the heavy volume, which now felt like a burden. He knew every secret. He knew every crime, every weakness. He knew what I most treasured, and what and who I loved. The last page had the words “wish list” across the top. Underneath were detailed notes and variations of heartbreaks, discouragement, diseases and other ailments. The last note was bold and in all caps. DEATH.



I turned to the back of the book and read the words as my heart raced and tears streamed down my face. The words imprinted said tentative date of death. I read aloud today’s date.



The door opened and an expensive, tailored suit walked in. His voice like honey melted in air and called my attention to his desk once more. With a genuine smile he said, “It’s so good to see you again”.