Since many have enjoyed Chapter Three of The Greatest Con I have decided to post most of what has been finished for you. Keep in mind that while Tim is full of funny, a lot of what is presented here is pure satire. The first gullible character to be recruited by Satan is a closeted homosexual, and you'll see why this is the case as you read along.

I hope you enjoy this, and as time permits, I'll be posting more. You are free to read this work in public, print it, or anything of that manner. I do have the intention to publish this when it is complete, and I hope you will decide to purchase it when it hits digital store shelves. However, as an author and artist, I'm most elated that many may enjoy it. So tell your friends! ;)

Sincerely,

G|M

P.S. And yeah, I realize the word "gay" is said here quite often. It tapers off, and this character here doesn't stay in the novel for very long.

Chris sat at a table in the food court of a mall. His sister and two of her girlfriends were positioned clockwise next to each other at the round table. As he took a drink of his fountain cola, he did his best to nonchalantly peer around at the crowd of people with nothing better to do but be at a mall on a fall Sunday evening. His eyes found a cute boy from his school busy flirting with a girl. He wanted to look away, to stop having the thoughts he was having, but his will power wasn't up to the task at this point anymore.

A foot nudged his leg from underneath the table and he snapped out of his gawking stare and looked at his smiling older sister. “Cute, huh?”

Chris blushed a bit. “Yeah, she's pretty cute.”

He watched as his sister shook her head in discordance. “No, the boy silly.”

Chris shrugged his shoulders. “I wouldn't know, I don't judge guys.”

His sister's friend Amy threw a french fry at him. “Yeah, right. We know you're gay honey, its okay. We won't tell anyone or make fun of you.”

Chris' back stiffened and he looked his sister in the eye. “You know I'm not gay Tara, so quit talking about it with your girlfriends behind my back.”

Tara reached across the table and took her brother's arm in her hand, she looked at him with a pleading stare. “Chris when are you going to stop with this stuff? Its stupid.”

Amy nodded and looked at the other girl next to her. “Hey, I'm a girl, and I know Sarah's hot. I'd date her, but she didn't ask me out. She did ask you, though,” Amy said with a sly smile.

Chris shook off his sister's arm and stood up. “Can we just go home? I don't feel like being here anymore, sorry.”

Sarah shrugged. “We're still not done getting stuff for winter formal. Besides, we want your opinion.”

Chris sighed. “I..I don't care what you guys wear.” His eyes met with Tara's. “Please, I'm sorry, I'm just over this whole thing right now.”

Tara shook her head. “We can go home if you admit you're gay,” she took a sip of her Coke but kept her eyes on him and wore a funny grin.

Chris closed his eyes and tried to calm himself down before he exploded in the food court in front of everyone. “Damn it I'm not gay, alright?”

The girls looked at one another and stood up. “Fine,” Sarah said. “Then we're not leaving yet. We're just going to torture you with shopping.”

Chris huffed loudly. “Fine. Call me when you're done, I'm going to go hang out at the video game store or something.”

Tara grabbed Chris' arm and pulled him back towards the girls. “No, Mom said you had to stay with us. If anything happened to you she'd kill me.”

Chris tried to get out of his sister's grasp but the other two girls joined in the fun of dragging him towards a pink hued shop filled with accessories of the glittery girly kind.

“Just a few more stores Chris,” Amy said. “Then we're done.”

Chris sighed loudly out of disdain. “Okay, just let me go.”

The girls reluctantly let go of him and he continued to walk by their sides as they entered the store. Only one employee seemed to be behind the counter. “Hi girls,” the twenty something man said with an obvious lisp. He walked towards the group and noticed one lone boy, busy staring at items in the shop.

“Hi,” Sarah said. “We're just looking at some accessories for winter formal.”

The man's eyes lit up. “Aw, splendid. And I see one of you brought your boyfriend with you. I'll help you out quickly to cure his boredom.”

Tara giggled. “Nah, he's my brother. He's gay anyway so we're not quite his type.”

Chris glared at Tara. “Shut up with that already!” Chris turned on his heels and began to walk out.

“He's in denial,” Sarah took the opportunity to tell the salesman.

The salesman nodded knowingly and then yelled out at Chris. “No straight man walks like that, honey.”

Chris stopped in his tracks and looked back at the clerk. “Fuck off, fag,” and with that he abruptly turned around and began walking again, trying to walk more from the legs and less from the hips. He hated how everyone seemed to see right through him. He just wanted to be normal. His parents had tried so hard to have a boy, and it took two girls before him to get one. He knew they'd never get over him being gay. “I'm not gay,” he said as he sat down on a fountain just feet from the accessory shop and began sobbing uncontrollably.

Three skinheads approached Chris who was still too busy crying to notice. “Awe, poor wittle queer got his panties in a bunch.”

Chris looked up and through tearful eyes saw a boy he knew from school named George. “Go away,” he demanded.

George stood back mockingly looking hurt. “We're just trying to say hi and get to know you a bit better. Now you're just being rude!”

George pushed Chris into the fountain and jumped on him, holding him down underwater until the fight was out of him. Chris' hair was used to pull him out of the water and onto the mall floor where the three skinheads went back to work on torturing him using their steel toed boots and occasional punches to the head.

Chris, now curled up into a ball was trying to catch a breath of air. Suddenly he heard George scream as he fell to the ground in convulsions, the other two boys stopped and looked at the sales clerk from the accessories shop holding a taser. “Get away from him,” he said in a high pitched tone. “Or you're next.”

The two boys fled and Tara rushed to her brother's side, helping him up. Tears and sobs now flowed out of him more free than ever. A security guard stopped on his electric cart and began to wonder what was going on. “What happened here?”

The sales clerk explained the situation to the security guard who nodded and grabbed a dazed and confused George, hand cuffing him and putting him into the electric cart. Unclipping a two way radio he sent out a yelp and an answer from the main mall security office came back through. “I have a code 23, I'm bringing a suspect into the office for questioning. Please call the sheriff.”

Chris glanced at George who had long since steadied his eyes on him, a look of pure rage was upon his face. The burly security guard sat back down on the cart. “I'll send another guard to pick you guys up, the police will probably need to question you.”

Tara nodded. “Sure, anything they need.”

Chris' sobs had begun to subside. “Tara I don't want to get him in trouble, he's going to beat me down worse next time if I do.”

Tara hugged her brother. “We can't just let assholes like him get away with this.”

The clerk emerged back out through the doorway, Sarah and Amy following close behind. Sticking a key into a hole outside the door an electric whirl sounded as a mesh gate rolled down and secured the entrance.

Chris escaped his sister's hug and sat back down, he looked up at the group and focused on the shop keep with an apologetic look. “I'm sorry I called you a fag.”

The man waved his hands effeminately. “Its okay sweetie, I call my gay friends fags too.”

Chris smiled and turned his attention toward another, yet larger electric cart marked security as it rolled up to them. “Here goes nothing,” Chris said, standing up.

* * *

The police had come and Chris recounted the whole situation to the best of his ability in a sworn statement. It didn't take much convincing: he had plenty of bruises, a couple of chipped teeth and bleeding gums to tell the story for him. The interview had been completed, Amy and Sarah had hugged him lovingly and decided to leave the mall having enough drama for one night. His mother was on her way to pick up him and his sister.

Sitting on a bench in the main office of the mall he had laid his head on his sister's shoulder while he held a bag of ice wrapped in a paper towel on a black eye. He hated how right she could be, how much she had tried to encourage him to not keep the secret of his desires. He had a million reasons to hide it, and no good reason to come out of the closet. His sister absentmindedly rubbed her hands through his short hair, trying to comfort him. “I'm not gay,” Chris said to break the silence.

He felt his sister take in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “No, you just wish you weren't gay.”

Chris brought his head up off her shoulder and looked her in the eyes. “Well what if I was? If I came out, people would..”

His sister interjected. “Would what? Beat you up? Oh wait, nevermind, they already have.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “This is eating you up inside Chris, and I hate it. I can't stand to see you try and hide who you are, its stupid. Mom and Dad would totally not care, I promise.”

Chris stood up angrily. “Look, what do I need to do to prove to you I'm not gay?! Go out with Sarah? Want me to ask her out and screw her brains out?” Chris' jaw dropped as he looked at his sister's expression on her face, he just knew his mother was behind him.

“Ahem,” his mother tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around. “There will be none of that mister.” She hugged him and kissed his forehead, embracing him for a long minute. “What happened?”

Chris shook his head as he looked his mother in the eyes. “I don't want to talk about it.”

Tara stood up and grabbed her purse and a couple of shopping bags. “But I will. Chris was beat up by some skinheads I know from school because they don't like gay guys.”

Chris looked back at his sister with a glare and turned back to his mother. “She's lying.”

His mother looked at him incredulously. “Then why did they attack you? Did you provoke them?”

Chris stiffened his spine and walked towards the door out of the mall's office. “I hate you both. I just want to go home, okay?”

“Alright Christopher, if thats what you want, thats what we'll do,” his mother said.

Chris kept on walking but responded back with a yell. “Good.”

Chris' alarm went off and he gingerly tapped it, standing up out of bed and rushing into the bathroom to take a shower before his sister attempted to get in. He had gone straight to his room when they had got home, his father had tried to coax him into eating but his words did not help. Before his mother went to bed she had come in and checked on him, taking the time to have a conversation he was hoping he'd never have to have with his parents, let alone anyone else.

“Honey,” she had said as she motioned for him to sit beside her on his bed. Turning off his computer he moved from his desk and onto his bed; staring at the floor and tapping his feet with anxiety. “The girls and I have talked about you a few times,” she said. She was referring to, of course, the trio of Tara, Sarah, and Amy. “We all know how you like guys. I've seen you practically drool over some hunks when we went clothes shopping, you know?” His mother at that point had grabbed his hand and moved his gaze up towards her eyes. “I just want you to know that no matter what your father and I will love you, and I truly mean that. We've discussed the possibility of any of you three kids being gay and as much as your father would love to see you carry on the family name he first and foremost just wants to see you happy.”

Chris had moved his gaze out from her stare and peered back down to the floor, saying nothing. She nudged him a couple of times, but he had chosen to ignore it. She stood up and kissed his forehead, patting his head as she made her way towards the door. “Well anyway,” she said. “Sweet dreams.”

As soon as she had left he walked over to his bookshelf and released all of the anxiety coursing through his veins by throwing every paperback book sitting on a bookshelf in his room at his bed; making sure that they made little noise.

And now it was time again to go back to school. He could hardly wait.

After drying off and brushing his teeth he wrapped the towel around him and opened the door to an angry sister. “You sure took long enough. Luckily Sarah's driving us, I'll just put my makeup on in the car.”

Chris shrugged and went back to his room, picking out his clothes and doing the rest of his morning routine in front of the mirror on his dresser. Using a lot of product, skin cleaners, lotions, and body spray he deemed himself fit for the public just as he heard a honk outside his window, which was facing the street. He grabbed his book bag and followed his sister out the door.

“How are you feeling today,” Sarah asked as Chris took his seat in the front so his sister could sit beside Amy in the back. Sarah drove a four door Nissan Sentra. She had bought it a year ago on her sixteenth birthday with an inheritance left to her by her grandmother.

“Fine,” Chris said, closing the door and buckling himself in. “Do you have a date for winter formal?”

Sarah shook her head no. “Not yet, but we're probably just going to be a threesome.” She giggled, followed by his sister and Amy.

“I'll be your date if you want.” Chris said, looking out the passenger side window.

“Awe, thats sweet hon. Actually, if you do want to go, my cousin Ray will totally go with you. I've already asked him and showed him a picture of you. He thinks you're cute. He's more boyish, but you're more girlish anyway, so I think it'd probably work.” Sarah smiled sweetly as Chris' head turned and glowered at her.

“Forget it,” Chris said, crossing his arms over his chest. He was silent for the rest of the ride, thankful that Sarah had taken the opportunity shortly after his last words to turn on the radio and tune in to Fall Lake's pop channel, making sure it was as loud as it could go.

They made it to school and parked, Chris in silent agitation unbuckled his seatbelt and exited the car and quickly made his way from the student parking lot and up the stairs into the main hallway. His sister had tried to tell him to slow down but he wasn't interested in spending anymore time with the three girls. As he entered his first period class, which happened to be History, his best subject thankfully, most of the students that had already gathered in the classroom stared at his fresh bruises and black eye. He silently and quickly made his way to his designated desk.

The girl next to him took interest in the bruises. “Oh my god! What happened?!”

Chris shrugged. “I don't want to talk about it Stacy.”

Stacy seemed taken aback, but said nothing more as first period bell rang and morning announcements began.

First period class went on as usual, he listened to the teacher's lecture with legitimate interest as she prattled on about the Dough Boys of World War I. After forty five minutes the bell rang again, and with much glee the class stood up and filed out of the room and onwards to their next period. As Chris made his way towards the door his teacher pulled him aside.

“Chris,” she said, putting her hand lightly on his arm. “Are you okay?”

Chris studied her and realized her concern was real. “Yeah, I'm fine.”

His teacher stared at him intensely. “Well, I can't help but notice the bruises on your arms and your black eye. Is anyone hurting you at home? You know you don't have to be afraid to tell me.”

Chris huffed. “Look, I just got into a fight at the mall yesterday, thats all.”

His teacher frowned. “You don't fight Chris, I know you.”

Shrugging, Chris looked over his teacher's head and at the clock. “Look, I have to go, I'm going to be late.”

His teacher shook her head. “No, I can write you a pass. In fact, I want you to go down to Counselor Allen and talk to him right now.” Striding towards her desk and producing a blue pad and began to scribble on it. “Here, go down to the Administration Office and tell the secretary that you need to see Mr. Allen. If she objects just show her this paper, okay?” She handed him the paper and Chris reluctantly took it. “I'm going to call ahead and tell him you're coming. If you don't show up I promise you that I will call your parents during lunch.”

Chris nodded and adjusted his book bag. “Fine.” He turned around and hastily exited, heading for the administration office. The anger within him was unbearable. Why did everyone pick on him for no reason? As he entered the office he was greeted by Misses Wrinkler. Despite her age, which he guessed her to be in the late 50s, her hair was still naturally red and was almost in a bee hive type of style. She wore glasses that came complete with a chain which made him wonder if she had magically appeared out of the sixties sometimes: perhaps being quick enough to pick up computers and not complain about the time warp.

He handed her the note as she questioned his presence in front of her. “Oh, I see,” she said. “Well, sit down on a chair behind you and I'll buzz him.”

Before Misses Wrinkler could do as such Mr. Allen poked his head out of his door and peered down the hallway just behind her desk. “Oh, no need to buzz me. Come in Chris, Miss Ridgeway has already called to tell me you're coming.”

Chris stood back up and walked behind Misses Wrinkler and down the hallway that housed a few rooms. One for the Principal, one for the Vice Principal, and one for Mr. Allen. This was just one of the AO's. At the other end of the school there was another one with the nurses office and two other counselors.

Chris entered Mr. Allen's office and peered around at it. It was small, most of the walls being taken by uplifting posters, a bookshelf full of books, and a desk with a computer. “Please Chris,” Mr. Allen said as he shut the door. “Take a seat and tell me why your teacher thought you needed to see me.”

Chris sat down as far away as he could from the desk chair which he assumed Mr. Allen would sit. And joyfully he was right. He looked at Mr. Allen who was staring at him intently and gave him a shrug, averting his eyes. “I don't know, really.”

Mr. Allen smiled. “Well, can you guess anything?”

Chris looked around trying to preoccupy his mind and seem as disinterested as possible. “Umm..no, no guesses. Can I go now?”

Mr. Allen rolled his chair forward towards Chris, causing Chris to snap his eyes back to him. “What about the bruises up and down your arms and that black eye of yours, maybe that might have something to do with it?”

Another shrug. “Maybe.” Chris stared at the pictures on Mr. Allen's desk and noticed two pictures. One portrayed him and his wife, and a teenage girl smiling. It looked professionally done. The second had the same girl smiling, now a bit older, with another girl around the same age in the picture. The two seemed to be very close, and Chris wondered why his other daughter wasn't in the family portrait. “How come you only have one daughter in that photo?”

Mr. Allen looked confused and turned towards his desk, pointing at the family portrait. “Oh, you mean this picture?” Mr. Allen watched as Chris nodded. “I only have one daughter, the other girl is her girlfriend. They've been dating for about three years now. But enough about me, lets get back to you.”

Chris tapped his feet. “What about me?”

Mr. Allen sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Chris, anything you tell me in here is confidential unless it endangers you or anyone else.”

Chris adjusted his position in the chair as his feet tapped quicker. “Okay,” he said quietly.

Mr. Allen smiled. “So?”

Chris shrugged again. “So what?”

Mr. Allen shook his head and gestured towards his phone. “If you don't give me a truthful answer as to why you have those bruises on you I'm going to be forced to assume the worst and call the police and the Child Protection Agency.”

Chris sat in silence and Mr. Allen reached towards the phone. “No, don't,” he said at the last minute. “The police have record of it already.”

Mr. Allen swiveled the chair and brought himself around to face Chris again. “Good, we're getting somewhere. They have record of what?”

Chris sat back up and stopped tapping his feet. “A group of skinheads attacked me yesterday at the mall. I didn't see them approach me otherwise I would have ran, if only I hadn't had been too busy..” he trailed off.

“Go on,” instructed Mr. Allen. “Too busy what?”

“Too busy crying, okay?” Chris stood up and motioned towards the door. “Now you know the truth, can I go back to class?”

“Well hold on now,” Mr. Allen gestured back towards the chair Chris had occupied. “Sit back down and let me ask you a few more questions.”

Chris sighed and threw his backpack onto another vacant chair before sitting down as commanded. “What else do you need to know?”

Mr. Allen took out a pen and a notepad. “For starters why do you think they attacked you? Did you provoke them?”

Chris shook his head, and finally exploded in a torrent of pent up emotion. “No. Everyone pucking thinks I'm gay and the boy who is currently in Juvie is only going to get out and maybe kill me next, I don't know. I pucking just wish I could go right now and just forget this whole conversation, is that alright with you?”

Mr. Allen shook his head and brought up his hands. “Chris, Chris, calm down. Close your eyes. There you go. Now take a deep breath and count to ten and exhale slowly. Good, one more time...alright.”

Chris opened his eyes back up. “I'm sorry.”

Mr. Allen smiled. “Its fine, don't worry. There's no reason to be angry at me for what those kids did.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “Its not just the skinheads, its everyone. My sister, her friends, my mother, everyone. I hate it.” Chris sighed and sat back in his chair.

Mr. Allen cleared his throat. “Chris, can I ask you a question?” Mr. Allen watched Chris nod. “Are you gay?”

Chris took in a deep breath and closed his eyes, counting to ten and slowly letting it out again he began to speak. “No. I mean I've never done anything with guys, you know?”

Mr. Allen nodded. “But do you find yourself attracted to them?”

Chris looked down for a second, then peered back up. “I'm thirsty, can I go get a drink from the water fountain?”

Mr. Allen shook his head. “Chris, quit avoiding the issues here.”

Looking towards the ground again Chris meekly responded. “Yes.”

“Alright, that wasn't so hard, was it?” Mr. Allen watched as Chris shook his head no. “I'm going to get you a cup of water, I'll be right back.” Chris nodded.

Chris looked up to make sure Mr. Allen wasn't in the room and then placed his face in his hands, trying not to cry. But he could not help himself. The tears and sobs picked up pace as Mr. Allen walked in.

“Chris, here's your water.” Mr. Allen watched as Chris choked back sobs and wiped his eyes.

Holding out his hand Mr. Allen handed the small paper cup of water to Chris and he quickly drank down the few gulps the glass held. “Thank you,” he said, trying to wipe new tears from his face.

Mr. Allen turned towards his computer. “Chris I don't think its the best day for you to stay in class, do you want me to call your mother?”

Chris thought and nodded. “Yes, please.”

Clacking away at the keys Mr. Allen called up Chris' emergency numbers and dialed the cell phone number listed which he undoubtedly believed to belong to the kid's mother. The phone rang and he cupped his mouth over the receiver trying to block out the crying in the background. “Misses Hamburg? Yes, hi. I'm Mister Allen, your son's counselor here at Fall Lake High. No, no, every thing's fine, I think, actually. He's just a little upset today, I don't think its a good idea for him to continue with his classes. Alright, sure, just come down to the attendance office and ask the secretary to see your son and I.” He turned back towards Chris who was hunched over, his sobbing muffled by his hands again. “Your mother is coming, she said she should be here within a half an hour. Want another glass of water?”

* * *

Chris laid on the sofa downstairs aimlessly flipping between four documentary channels, three soap operas, and C-Span. A half pint of ice cream, nearly finished, sat on the coffee table with a glass of some clear soda next to it. His mother had been more than willing to pick him up. On his way home he finally told her that he was gay. Not that she didn't already known, not like everyone else didn't know. She was very happy to hear it from his mouth, though. He asked what he should do about Dad and she had replied “Oh, I'll take care of it honey.” And he felt quite comfortable with that. The rest of the trip was in near silence, save for an oldies station on the radio, the volume knob turned nearly down. He had begun to fall asleep just as they pulled into the drive way.

His mother shook him awake with a smile. “We're here sweetie.”

Chris stretched and yawned, and quickly found himself vegging out in front of the couch on account of his mother's insistence. But there wasn't anything on, really. Well, nothing seemed interesting. No one was online at this point in the day that he cared to talk to either. He peered outside and decided that he'd take the opportunity to have a stroll in the park before fall did what it did every year and turn into the biting cold of winter.

As he traveled through the streets of his yuppie enclave a car honked at him, passing through a traffic light but quickly making a U-Turn and heading straight for him. Chris tried to focus and saw the tell-tale sign of shaved heads. Without hesitation, he again was on the run.

Making it to the park he tried to find anyone who might be able to help his situation, because the skinheads had parked their car awkwardly and were following him avidly chanting “We're gonna kill this fag,” each carrying a weapon of their choice in plain view. Four of them and one of him didn't seem like good odds to Chris.

Suddenly a brilliance of yellow, orange, followed by a red crackled through the air. As everyone stopped for an instance, a man approached the four skinheads and began to gesture at them. And suddenly, in concert, they all dropped their weapons and began running back to their old red beat-up Honda as if their lives were in danger.

Cocking his head and furrowing his brow, Chris watched with keen interest at the oddity of the sudden departure of his would be assailants. Marching forward with a sure stride he approached the man who had driven them off. He noticed the man had a silver mane, non-existent eye brows, and large eyes that seemed to delve right into Chris' very soul. Besides these interesting features, he was otherwise dressed in black jeans, a white shirt, and a leather jacket. “Hello, Chris,” the man said with a large grin. “How would you like to have the power to fight back?” The man's gaze entranced Chris, he gestured towards a jet black limousine parked on the side of the road that Chris had not seen up til then.

Chris' head was swimming in confusion, he felt as if every thought he had that tried to dissuade him from following this man was pushed away; the only answers that involved going with the man were easier to grab from the cloudiness. And so he followed him, entering the door being opened by the chauffeur Chris slid across the leather interior and the car was soon in motion.

As they pulled away from the median and back into the flow of traffic the ground in front of them seemed to crack open, showing a molten passageway ahead. Chris wanted to scream and tell the driver to watch out, but couldn't think clearly enough to do so. He watched as the car slid into the crack and began driving on the molten road before them.

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