Twisted All To Hell

by J E Moore

but would you happen to be Max Parker the world-famous entrepreneur? I heard he was visiting our fair city."

  "Yeah... yeah, okay. That's me, here in the flesh. Entrepreneur, politician, pro-athlete when I was younger. Yep, a Jack and Master of all trades." Unsaid, "Yes, especially stock trades, those beautiful transactions which make me money, lots of money, billions and with it, power. Enough money and power to be a member of the Coalition: the ultra-secret financial governing board of the entire free world.''

  11:59 pm, he peeked out again. Almost, it's almost over.

  "Again, my son, is there something you wish to confide in me? Even though you're not Catholic, our conversation is confidential. It is sacred and protected. It serves as the cornerstone of our faith. Consider me as a median; you will be talking directly to God."

  "Directly to God? Sounds like a pretty good deal. Okay, since you asked for it, Father." Max forced the reluctant words, "I'm being chased by the Devil. He's here to take my soul. How's that for a confession? Ever heard that one before, Padre?"

  Stunned silence, then, "Pardon?"

  "You heard me right. The Devil's coming to take my soul. I assure you it's no joke.

  I saw him earlier at an awards ceremony. I've been voted Man of the Decade," he said with pride. Then considered, "So what good does it do me now? Anyway, there he sat at a front row table and dressed up in some silly costume as the Grim Reaper. But I knew his true identity because I could see his red eyes under his hooded frock. The Grim Reaper, humph." Max rubbed his forehead, "You know the more I think about it, I believe that sadistic Sonnavabitch enjoyed tormenting me... just for grins. Bastard."

  "I don't understand," gasped Father Paul. "You actually saw the Devil?"

  "Yes, I did. Don't you believe me?"

  He answered slowly, "Perhaps, but I don't know you personally." Wringing his hands, "Please don't think I'm calling you a liar, Mister Parker. I mean no offense. Tell me more, please"

  "All right, Father. For one thing, he looked a whole lot different than he did eighty-seven years ago."

  "Eighty-seven years? You look remarkably well for your age. I would have guessed you to be a strong fifty at the most. My compliments."

  "Well, that's one of the perks of the package... or rather, the contract. Whatever! As I said, the last time I saw him, he resembled a doctor. He wore a white lab coat and had a medicine bag. He looked the whole nine yards. He even had a f'ing stethoscope around his neck! Tricky bastard. He caught me at a weak point. He promised to save me. He said I could live my life over again - longer and better this time. He'd give me a hundred years of good health and I could pay him back later." Max lit up again. This time, a joint. "I've been tricked! Yep, conned pure and simple by that no-good Sonnavabitch."

  "You said, 'contract'," queried the priest.

  "Yeah, I vaguely remember signing a document... in blood... my blood. It all seemed very fast. I was kinda down and out at the time. He caught me at a weak moment and took advantage of me! But then immediately after my signing everything became wonderful and I forgot about it. I was a teenager again and living the 'perfect' life. I chose to be thirteen rather than being born again and had a ball. I had the prettiest girlfriends and getting all the puss ... er, sex, I ever wanted. But I wanted, no... needed more, much more. So I dropped out of school and ran away from home, if that's what you'd call it, at fourteen. School was for children. It was a waste of my new time. On the streets I made tons of money. I knew everything. I knew the future events of the entire world!" He halted his second life's story, "But I never considered my future consequences."

  "Never?" Father Paul wondered aloud.

  "Well, not for a very long time and then I pushed it out of my mind when it surfaced. It was an annoyance."

  "So, how did you determine you were tricked?" asked the priest. "When did you come to that conclusion?"

  "When exactly, I'm not sure," Max answered. "Maybe forty years ago. The realization came from the red eyes. They were the give-away."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Red eyes, Father. As I got older, I became aware of other people like myself who had glowing red eyes. We had eyes similar to what you see in a poorly developed photograph. In the beginning, I thought I was the only one who had them. And then later, I thought I was the only one who could see the other people's red eyes. But eventually I learned of my error. As it turned out, we were a world-wide, exclusive club with thousands of members. For us, it served as a mark of distinction and recognition... of those secretly branded by the Devil. To normal people our eyes appeared their natural color, blue, brown, whatever. Subsequently, using our advantages to the fullest and knowing who each other were, we never challenged one another in the affairs of life. Besides, what was the point, we all had the 'inside scoop'. We were in charge. We were the Pillars of the community, the heroes, statesmen... literally, the kings of the earth! However, as time went on I noticed some of the club members would disappear, unexplained and then later new people would take their place. That disturbed me." Parker popped the collar button of his tux and tossed his bow tie aside. "Your turn now, Father. Tell me have you personally ever seen people with red eyes in this church? Being religious and all, I wondered if you guys had the power to see us." Another drag on the weed, "Ahhh, yes, I confess. I should have seen the plot sooner, but I was too caught up in the 'fast lane'." A deep breath, "Water under the bridge... but that's not the problem at hand."

  "In answer to your question, Max. No, I haven't seen any 'red eyes' in this church. But, getting back to your story. When you realized what was happening, why didn't you throw yourself at the foot of the cross and beg for God's mercy? Surely, through prayer and the love of Christ there is salvation, redemption... "

  Cutting him off, "Please, give me a break. I don't think it's quite that simple, Padre. And to be frank, I don't think you can stop this monster with some mumbo-jumbo or rosary beads. I believe he has to be 'tricked' just as he did to the rest of us desperate, dumb-ass fools." He cracked the door and peered out - still no one about, especially 'him'.

  Max Parker stared hard at his watch. The little hand rested on the twelve and the big one on three. 12:03 am. "I'll be damned, I was right! I beat the Devil at his own game by hiding in a church."

  Interrupting his thoughts, "Max. You must understand it's never too late to seek forgiveness from the Father and the Son. I implore you. I believe... "

  Parker clapped his hands. "Funny thing, that very same thought actually crossed my mind once upon a time but I ruled it out. Tell me, Father, just how long do you have to be down on your knees to be saved? Ten years? Twenty? When you first realized what a mess you were in? Your whole life? Do you think it would make any difference? I think not. Humph, all that groveling and saying endless prayers is pointless. Sorry, I've never heard of God issuing a Get out of Hell free card. Tell you, what I do believe in is manipulation and power bargaining."

  His spirits rose, "Like I said, you've got to outsmart the bastard as I just did. I learned to play to win, Father. Winning is everything, begging just won't cut it."

  "I don't agree. I think your only chance is..."

  "Enough of this drivel," Max interrupted. He took another look at the Rolex. Parker had become cocky now. 12:05 am. "It's Miller time, amigo."

  Mister Max Parker, entrepreneur-extraordinaire, full of vim and vigor, exited the booth - victorious. Looking back at the shadowy clergyman's silhouette he bid, "See ya, we'll hafta do it again sometime... but don't hold your breath. It'll be a cold day in you know where before I step into another one of these joints." Turning to leave, in a few short steps his laughter died on his lips. His ear to ear grin melted as soft wax to a flame.

  Thirty feet away, sitting comfortably in a pew, was the Devil still dressed in his Grim Reaper's attire. "I believe we have an appointment, Mister Parker."

  Max jumped, his back slammed into the booth. Eyes popping, he put his watch to his nose then thrust it forward. He pointed furiously at the dial which n
ow reads, 12:07 am. "No way, Jack!" he shot back. "It's after midnight, way after. Face up, asshole. I beat you. I won. Hit the road!"

  Father Paul came out and was immediately shocked speechless by the intruder. He cowered aside, lowered his head and made the sign of the Cross. The head covering of his monk's cloak of piety dipped and concealed half of his face.

  "Really?" mocked the Devil. "Midnight? Did I miss some little detail?"

  "Little detail, my arse," Parker fired back. A contract's a contract!"

  "Yes, it is," acquiesced his adversary.

  "Damn right," pressed Max. "Contract and small print. That's been my new life. And while we're setting things straight, a little detail I didn't appreciate was your party-crashing theatrics at the hall."

  "It was a mere courtesy, Mister Parker. A last minute reminder for you to get your affairs in order... to say your 'good-byes'. That sort of stuff. Most people appreciate it. Sorry about the choice of costume if it offended you. Would this be better?" and changed his appearance to the doctor of long ago.

  "Satan transforming himself into an angel of light," whispered Father Paul.

  "Shut-up, Padre. I'm doing business here," directed Max. "But sit tight; you're my witness to this contract violation. He's trying to pull a fast one again."

  Addressing the Devil, "God won't put up with your crap, you