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The Day I Met the Devil

Updated on November 8, 2012
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I recall when I met the Devil. That’s right Satan, the Prince of Darkness, Old Scratch, and whatever nefarious title you may wish to give him. It was a blustery winter's day many years ago. Of course this is Dallas, so winters aren’t so severe. We just get a lot of crazy unpredictable weather several times a year, and sometimes we have a heat wave in December.

Anyway I was waiting at the train station pacing back and forth. Some dust blew up and got into my eyes so I gave them a good rubbing. When I opened them next I saw a peculiar man sitting down on the mostly uncomfortable seats at the other end of the station. His hair was a gentle light-brown, long, and running just past his shoulders, which whipped gently in the wind, as though this was a mere zephyr ignoring the frequent blasts of chilled air. The mysterious man marked a neatly-trimmed mustache and beard, drawing a nearly dotted line up to his ears. A coy smile graced his lips, and his nose held up a pair of “John Lennon-style” teashade sunglasses hiding his deep-blue eyes. I knew they were deep-blue. I do not know how I knew; I just knew.

He was dressed in a shadow black leather three-quarter length coat, with a forest green turtleneck sweater. Around his neck, dangled a delicate silver ankh. His perfectly pressed black khaki pants traveled far down his long legs to a polished pair of black leather boots underneath. He stood up. A somewhat lanky fellow he was, as he slowly approached me with his silver pendant dancing from side to side.

"Excuse me," his soft voice echoed a bit throughout the station, "but might I inquire as to when the next train will arrive?"

"I guess another five minutes or so," I said, then paused for a bit. "You look a little familiar."

"I am the Devil. I look familiar to everyone."

"Sorta like Santa Claus. Hehe. Hey, I'm John," I casually responded. "So what are you doing out here?"

Satan smirked. "I am heading to the convention center for the auto show. I always did fancy the nice sports cars. It is one of humanity’s greater achievements."

"Yeah, you get to sit in them too...well if you can fit in them," I said, trying to make awkward small talk to the slightly effeminate lord of darkness. It was about then that the weather got a bit more chaotic as customary in Texas; a flurry of miniature ice cubes fell from the sky peppering the metal awnings of the train station.

The dark prince looked a little concerned. "Uh...what is this ice falling from the sky?”

“You don’t know?” I asked.

I do not really get out that much," he sheepishly replied.

"Hail, Satan," I said, and at that moment I was overheard by a gaggle of fundamentalist Baptist getting off a nearby bus. I should have expected this as there are a lot of Baptists in Dallas, and I'm sure some of them take their religion too seriously.

"HE WORSHIPS SATAN! GET HIM! GET HIM!" they shouted as they pelted me with a library of bibles.

“Hey, wait a minute! There was a comma in that statement!” I said as I tried to shield myself from their bibliographic barrage.

Boy that was a day.

Didn’t even get to see the cars.

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    • johndnathan profile image
      Author

      John D Nathan 4 years ago from Dallas, Texas. USA

      thank you for reading, Alex.

    • profile image

      alex 4 years ago

      i got the joke. it was good one made me laugh nice two thumbs up very well done

    • johndnathan profile image
      Author

      John D Nathan 5 years ago from Dallas, Texas. USA

      Thank you for reading, MizBejabbers. The whole story was really a lead-up to a joke, so it pretty much ends where the main character gets whacked with bibles. I never planned on expanding it any further than that.

    • MizBejabbers profile image

      Doris James-MizBejabbers 5 years ago

      John, I love your opening paragraph. It describes weather so typical of anything south of the Mason-Dixon line. This is funny, with a well developed Devil, and I really enjoyed it. Great about the man from hell not knowing about hail. I loved the part about the Baptists, but I don't quite get it after they pelted you with the Bibles (man, I can just see that!). Can you elaborate just a little bit more? How about a good, harrowing escape and then submit this to a short story contest?

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