Twisted All To Hell

by J E Moore

time comes. But you're a 'good' man so you've got nothing to worry about. Correct?" Harvey nodded his head vigorously, 'yes' again. "I thought so." He raised his hand once more and the birds chorused in anew. "And they think so too. So, as I was saying we have all these souls just hanging around in a big staging area waiting for the Big Day. They're not being hurt or tortured, just biding their time. Here's the kicker. What I know and am willing to pass on to you to seal the deal is that the Big Day is right around the corner! Yes sir, my friend you'll end your human days here on earth and just like this," as he snapped his fingers, "it'll be your turn to be picked to go to Paradise. What a deal! It's a win-win situation which you so richly deserve."

  Weinstein rocked back and forth on his heels. "Well, er, it sounds awfully good. You present a hellava... oh, sorry, a 'good' argument indeed. Can I have some time to think about it?" Again, he wanted to see first if the birds would return to him without his getting tied up with this possible con-artist.

  "Of course, Harv. I'm an easy man to deal with. I'll return a day when I know you've made up your mind. But, my friend, I'll only extend this offer one more time. Remember if we go through with this, your new-found friends will be with you morning and evening six days a week. Not on Sunday. I'm leaving now; I have lots more customers waiting to make a deal." He gave Weinstein a 'thumbs up', 'win-win' sign and strode off into the foliage.

  Saturday evening, twelve days later

  All the nagging points had been proven and Harvey became surlier with each disappointing, passing day. No birds came, to say the least - not even a rustling or an occasional call from the trees. He couldn't even see the high-flying predators which were always visible overhead or on the horizon. His neighbors only 'thought' he had been hard to deal with before. Yesterday he kicked over their curbside garbage can when he found it a couple of inches over where he had deemed his property line to be.

  Sitting in the open field with his stack of provisions he mumbled, "All right, Mister Black I agree. Let's get it done. I'm so miserable I'm just about ready to kill myself or someone else."

  "I heard you, partner," called his old, bosom buddy.

  "It's about time," snarled Harvey. "I've been waiting three weeks!"

  "I think not but I'm sure it felt that way." Stoking Weinstein's ego, "I know a good, deserving man when I see one. This is going to be so easy you won't believe it. All you have to do is say, 'I, Harvey Weinstein, agree to the previously stated covenant,' unless you have some further questions."

  "No, I'm fine. Let's get this damn thing done." Mister Black smiled. "I, Harvey Weinstein agree to the covenant."

  "Okay... that was the short version but it'll work," and the two men shook hands.

  "Now, bring em' on," ordered Harvey.

  "Sorry, Buddy. It's too close to sundown. They'll be here first thing Monday morning."

  "Monday?" Harvey furrowed his brow, "How about tomorrow?"

  "Sorry again," waving a finger at him. "Not on Sunday. Remember that part of the contract?"

  Harvey frowned, "Humm, I guess you're right. But I'm not happy about it."

  "I understand, Buddy." He patted him on the back, "Monday'll be here before you know it and you won't be disappointed."

  Harvey folded up his extra-wide, oversized for greater stability chair and said, "Better not be," to no one in sight.

  He was not disappointed. There were over a hundred feathered friends who clamored to show their affection. Harvey didn't feel just being happy, he was in near ecstasy.

  The months went by and he increasingly neglected his home birds. Finally, one day he declared, "I've had enough of feeding you and cleaning up your poop." He emptied his cages one by one and threw his pets outside with a harsh hand until they were all gone. "Good riddance. I've got bigger and better now." The freed birds, lost and disoriented scattered in all directions. None wished to return. High overhead and from atop the tallest trees the predators did not let this go unnoticed. (Note/Fact: Any bird shop or home pet released into the so-called freedom of the wild will be killed and eaten by a predator within forty-eight hours.) And Weinstein thought he knew all about birds. Rid of this messy, domestic encumbrance, he gleefully returned to the field for his personal doses of happiness.

  This lasted about two years at which time a couple of new intruders entered his Shangri-la.

  Harvey didn't remember the exact day because all of his were semi-wonderful and running together. Even with all he had he was becoming a bit jaded with his good fortune.

  There lived a family of four, harmless, black garter snakes who had made a home at the base of one of the trees in the church's field. Two of them had become curious at the human's on-goings and slithered closer to his position for a better view. They knew the birds would not attack them and kept scooting nearer and nearer. Mister Weinstein spied them at thirty feet away and approaching. Although he knew right away they were harmless, black snakes, he jumped up and rushed to them. He violently stomped on them and shouted, "You're violating my sanctuary you slimy bastards!" Then grabbed them by their tails and threw them against the closest tree trunk. They weren't killed but were certainly bruised and battered. The birds retreated into the trees and went silent from viewing the rampage. He called to them, "What? Where are you going? This is my ground and you are mine to command." However, they didn't return that day or the next and Harvey became truly pissed. Three days later on Saturday, a third of them flew back but wouldn't let him touch them. Weinstein remained angry, especially at the lesser showing. "Sonnavabitch, I better have a full boat here tomorrow and get this show back to normal."

  And as he should have known, none of his feathery friends returned the following day - Sunday. He cursed up one side and down the other.

  The following Monday through Saturday ran as usual except for the fewer head count. Then out of the blue, it dawned on him there were many other types of birds which never came to him - he was being denied! He saw them far overhead and skirting between the trees beyond his allotted perimeter. "I've been short-changed. I've been cheated! Where are you Mister Black? You conniving shylock."

  No sooner than the words had left his lips his 'travel agent' appeared. "Nice trick," attacked Harvey. "Flashing in and out of here like some kind of magician. And by the way I figured out your little scheme. How you've tricked me into getting less than what I paid for. The gig's up, Buddy."

  "The gig? What are you talking about? What's ailing you now, my boy?"

  "My boy?" contested Harvey.

  "Yes, since I'm many thousands of years older than you are, I believe I'm qualified to use that particular term."

  "Whatever floats your boat, old man."

  "Now, since we're clear on that issue would you please explain your accusations Mister Weinstein?"

  "It's simple," Harvey blurted.

  "You didn't give me all I bargained for." He gestured at the big birds flying overhead, the hawks on the far outside of his cordon and a few others by the waterways. "And I'm sure they are even more than those."

  "Oh, I see," returned his benefactor. "Are you aware those birds you're referring to don't get along with the ones I have provided you? They're sorta in a different class. They're predators... meat eaters. Your mounting greed will endanger these more docile birds."

  Harvey became angrier, "That's a load of crap! I know you can control them; you lying weasel."

  Mister Black was getting a little short on patience also. "Anything else, partner?"

  "Since you mentioned it," Weinstein continued with a new demand. "I want Sundays too!"

  Mister Black's eyebrows shot up, "What? Need I remind you again the contract excludes Sundays?"

  "Of course I remember but I am hereby initiating an amendment. Get it? And stop defying me. It's my soul. You remember that!"

  "I don't have the authority to make those kind of changes without approval," answered his antagonist. "I'll have to pass it on to my supervisor for a ruling."

  "Yeah, another cop-out," mocked H
arvey. "You sound like one of those corporate lawyer assholes."

  "Well, I guess we'll both find out tomorrow won't we?" He turned to leave and warned, "You may be surprised how binding a verbal contact is."

  "Up yours," heckled Weinstein. "Just get me my birds. Everyday!"

  Sunday morning came and went without any type of bird making an appearance. Harvey was steaming mad. "I'll be back later this evening and they'd better be here or come Monday morning I'll bring my gun. After I shoot a few of his pansy birds he'll know I mean business. I'll show him he can't mess with Harvey Weinstein!"

  Later that evening...

  Harvey camped out like a soldier awaiting an enemy attack. He inspected his provisions: a massive amount of bread and seed. "Humm, this stuff may not do. I may have to check at the pet shop to see what the big un's prefer to eat."

  It was 6:45 p.m. Sophie peeked out her kitchen window, "Why look at that, Honey. Mister Weinstein is in the field again... and it's Sunday. I saw him there this morning too but no birds came."

  "I'm amazed," returned Jack. "I thought they were all on the same wavelength. Bird-brains. Stop watching that moron; it's almost time for Wheel of Fortune."

  "Yes, Dear but it's so strange," as she closed the curtains. "I've never seen him out there on a Sunday. I'm sure he'll be in soon. You know he watches 'Wheel' also."

  "He's still an idiot," commented her husband as he settled into his