by
THOMAS J. MISURACA
The ringing of Henry Clapp's doorbell was peculiar for two reasons. One reason being it was three o'clock in the morning. The other was that nobody ever visited Henry Clapp.
The problem with Henry was that he was dull beyond belief. Think of the dullest person you know, multiply them by two, and you'd have Henry Clapp.
He devoted his life to accounting, a rather dull profession. He spent long hours at the office and brought work home at night. On weekends, he cleaned his house and did laundry, making sure his clothes were hung in color coordination.
Tonight he wore his plaid, flannel pajamas. When the unfamiliar sound of the doorbell woke him, Henry wrapped his plaid, cotton robe around himself, and slipped into his plaid, wool shoes.
He opened the door to reveal a tall, horned man.
"Hi," the man said, "I'm the Devil. Could I use your phone?"
At first, Henry was reluctant to let the Prince of Darkness into his home, but his mother told him to always help someone in need, fallen angel or not.
"I really appreciate this," the Devil said as Henry let him in, "My car broke down right out front. Next time I buy American."
"The phone's over there," Henry pointed, then asked, "Would you like some tea?"
"Not if it'll put you out."
"No. It's not trouble at all."
"Then I'd love a cup."
While the Devil made his call, Henry made the tea. From across the length of the apartment, Henry studied Satan. He appeared normal: thick, black shoulder length hair, thin beard and mustache, gray polyester leisure suit. The only unusual trait were the two small brown horns sticking out of his head.
Henry wondered why the Devil chose his apartment on the third floor rather than one on the first.
The tea kettle whistled.
Henry placed a steaming cup before the Devil.
"I'm in quite a pickle," the Devil said, hanging up the phone, "None of my friends can make it out this far."
"Friends?" Henry exclaimed, the Devil looked at him in surprise, "I beg you pardon, but your reputation as a wicked, evil demon proceeds you."
"Bad PR," the Devil explained, "I've been trying to fix that for years, but it's so difficult."
"Perhaps you need to get into the public eye more often."
"I've tried, but Jerry and Oprah won't have me. All they want is sex. The only people who care anymore are the tabloids, but I'm tired of that scene."
"That's too bad."
The Devil took a sip of his tea, "What a delicious blend of herbs and spices, Henry."
"Thank you," Henry replied, wondering how the Devil knew his name.
"Could I trouble you for one more thing?"
"Sure."
"No, no," the Devil shook his head, "It's too much to ask, and I've put you out enough this evening."
"You've been no trouble at all," Henry assured.
"I know we've just met, but could you drive me to the airport?"
"The airport?" Henry was baffled, "Can't you just move from place to place in a puff of smoke."
"You watch too much television, my friend," the Devil chuckled, "Anyhow, I'll go hail a taxi."
"You'll never get one at this time of night," Henry said, "I can take you. Let me get my coat."
"You're very kind," the Devil said, "I owe you one."
The Devil squeezed into Henry's orange Volkswagen Bug.
"This is a cozy little car," the Devil said.
"It usually takes about five minutes to start," Henry warned.
It started on the first try.
"Hmm," Henry was surprised, "Maybe it's afraid of you."
The Devil roared with laughter. "You've got a great sense of humor. I like that in a person."
As they drove away, the Devil turned the radio to a classical music station.
"Ah, Bach," he said, "What a fine lad. Too bad I couldn't tempt him."
Henry shifted uncomfortably.
"I have to tempt people," the Devil explained, "It's my job. Just like you keep you corporation's check books balanced, I keep the balance between good and evil. Doesn't mean I'm a bad guy to hang with on the weekends."
"No," Henry agreed, "It doesn't."
The Devil directed Henry through the airport to a private airline's terminal. As he got out of the car, he reached into his pocket and said, "Let me give you something for your trouble."
"No, no," Henry shook his head.
"Yes," the Devil said, "I put you out a great deal tonight," he opened his wallet, "Darn! Only credit cards."
"It's okay."
"I'll send you something. What do you need?"
"Well, my blender is on the blink."
"I can do better than that, Henry. I have lots of connections. How about something more personal?"
Henry thought for a moment, "Some new boxer shorts would be nice."
"Oh, Henry," the Devil giggled, "Think of me as a magical genie prepared to grant you one wish. Something you can't buy at K-Mart."
"A wish?" Henry hesitated, "No...that's too embarrassing."
"I do have a plane to catch..."
"Okay," Henry almost whispered, "I've always wished for the company of a woman."
"The company of a woman," the Devil chuckled, "How quaint. She'll be waiting when you get home."
"She will?"
"I'll make a few phone calls while waiting for my flight."
"That's great!" Henry exclaimed.
"Now get going," the Devil said, "Don't want to keep a nice girl waiting."
"Thank you, Mr. Lucifer!"
"No, Henry," the Devil grinned, "Thank you,"
He shut the door and waved as Henry drove away.
He found her waiting on the couch when he arrived home. She must have weighed about three hundred pounds. A black leather miniskirt wrapped tightly around her waist like a trash bag filled to its breaking point. Above that she wore a dirty white tee-shirt with "World's Greatest Sadist" printed across it.
"Are you Satan's friend," Henry asked.
"Expecting any other women in your apartment at four in the morning?"
He shook his head and asked, "Can I get you a drink?"
"Nah!"
"So," Henry shuffled his feet trying to think of a question, "What's your name?"
She stood and headed for the bedroom.
"You comin' or what?"
"Well," Henry said to himself, "She seems sweet."
He followed her into the bedroom.
If you were to see Henry Clapp the following week, you'd probably think it were someone else. He now wore ripped blue jeans, dirty white tee-shirts, and a used leather jacket. He let his hair go, never washing or combing it.
Henry quit his accounting job and planned to travel cross country with his girl, Natasha. He sold his Volkswagen Bug and bought a Harley Davidson which they planned to use for their trip.
Henry and Natasha hung out at Fractured Skull, a biker bar. They'd party there until the early hours of the morning.
The night before they were to embark on their trip, the doorbell rang. Henry assumed it was Spike, a mutual friend who said he might drop by to wish them luck. Instead, he opened the door to find the Devil.
"Hi," Henry said, "Won't you come in?"
The Devil walked in and nodded at Natasha.
"Hi Louie," she said.
"Hello Natasha," he said, "Time to go."
"Go?" Henry asked, "Where?"
"Back to where she came from," the Devil said.
"But she's mine," Henry protested, "You gave her to me."
"I didn't say it was permanent. Her time here is up."
"She has to say," Henry pleaded, "I'll do anything!"
"Are you sure?" the Devil asked.
"Just name it."
"I'd like your soul," the Devil said.
"My soul?" Henry exclaimed, "I thought you weren't like that?"
"Just doing my checks and balances," the Devil said.
"And if I agree, Natasha stays?"
"Give me your soul," the Devil said, "And Natasha will remain of her own free will."
Henry weighed life before and after Natasha.
"Okay," Henry said, "I'll do it."
"Lovely."
Suddenly, Spike burst through the door and exclaimed, "Natasha! I can't live without you any longer!"
"Oh Spikey!" Natasha broke into tears and ran into his arms.
"Will you ride cross country on the back of my bike?" Spike asked her.
"I'd luv ta!" Natasha said then turned to Henry, "I'm outta here!"
Spike carried Natasha out of the apartment.
"She can't leave," Henry protested.
"She can do anything she wants," the Devil said, "She has free will."
"That's not fair!"
"Don't look at me...I didn't invent it."
"You tricked me!"
"Of course I did! That's my nature."
"Your nature," Henry sighed and fell onto his couch.
"After all, I am the Devil."