Picaro

by West, Terry M.

  Tojo's father, Darryl Smith, had been an old school Baptist fire and brimstone preacher and he did a fine job of propagating hate. Racism and homophobia were easy triggers to pull in Southern people during the sixties, and Darryl had been damned good at his job. Darryl's housewife, Kelli, contributed in her way as well. Her heated gossip spread in sewing circles, PTA functions and her volunteer work.

  Darryl and Kelli Smith had no names in Hell. Smith was their slave name, they liked to say. Names weren't given by the Devil- they were earned and appointed only to those who resided solely in the pit. Demon names could be turned against you and used to pull you down into servitude. Rising fiends were always sent topside without a name on the form. Else wise, they'd be reduced to leprechauns or genies if a human in the know got a hold of their true name.

  Tojo's parents didn't reminisce about Hell that often and they didn't even have to explain Tojo's legacy or calling to their son. He felt the need to serve the greater evil in his blood. It was as deeply fixed in him as hibernation to a bear or dam-building to a beaver.

  Tojo Smith's childhood had been plagued by loneliness and uncertainty until one fateful night in 1968 that set him on his course.

  2.

  March 23rd 1968

  Tyler, Texas

  Tojo stared sadly at the bloodied and ripped cat collar that sat on the breakfast table before him. His parents looked solemnly at him and clutched coffee cups, though it was nighttime.

  "You promised me you wouldn't eat this one," Tojo complained softly. "Poor Mr. Whiskers the 6th."

  "I don't know what to say, Tojo," Kelli offered.

  "Honestly, we tried to resist this time, son," Darryl threw in. "But it's that damned demonic hunger of ours. It just grabs a hold of us."

  Tojo gazed up at his parents. Though they had the appearance of a conservative middle-aged couple that had started a family a little later than most, they were still considered very young demons. But Tojo, even in the guise of an eight-year-old mortal, was very mature already. Sometimes he suspected he was wiser than his parents. Even intelligent demons were prone to give in to their impulses. Tojo was finally starting to realize that a pet was no longer a fair option; for him or the animal.

  "I live a lie and wear human skin as a disguise," Tojo said. "I have to keep to myself. I have no friends. You guys can't give me any advice on being a human kid. And I can't even have a pet for companionship."

  "We weren't raised on Eden," Kelli reminded him.

  "We were born in the pit," Darryl said, grimly. "And we were damned lucky to survive. Wild demons have a tendency to dine on any young they can catch."

  Tojo rolled his eyes, recognizing his father's version of the walking-ten-miles-uphill- in-the- snow-to-get-to-school speech.

  "We can get you another cat," Kelli suggested.

  "No," Tojo said firmly.

  "But you love cats," Kelli said.

  "Yes, I do. But you have eaten every stray I have brought home. I'm done with it."

  "We know it must be hard for you," Darryl offered.

  "How? You have each other," Tojo spoke back. "I can't have a pet, a close friend, a girlfriend or a wife."

  "The biological plumbing isn't compatible with the humans, Tojo," Darryl explained again. "And fraternizing too heavily is an offense that will get you busted down quick, if not obliterated."

  "You can earn a lifelong companion from below," Kelli advised. "Succeed in your hate work and you can be joined in the pit with a demon wife."

  Tojo nodded softly. It was a reminder that Kelli gave him whenever he felt especially cursed, plagued or damned. It was the only thing that kept him going sometimes.

  "We're sorry we aren't the parents you think you should have," Darryl said. "You are stuck between two worlds, and it can't be an easy place to live. One day, your mother and I will be called back down. Our footprints will be wiped from the sand and it will be as if we were never here. You will be truly alone. Tojo, you will have to figure out your duty and your life on your own. There are very little instructions from down below. And when you do get a call from Hell, it is usually because of a problem and you don't want problems. You have to exist on instinct. Listen to your inside voice."

  "We bought something that might help you figure your human life out," Kelli said, putting down her cup and standing with her husband.

  "What?" Tojo asked curiously.

  "Come on, boy," Darryl said, beckoning his son to the living room.

  Tojo followed his parents and saw a large square shape that was covered with a sheet. Kelli walked over and pulled the sheet away, revealing a big screen 1968 Philco color television.

  Tojo smiled approvingly. "We have a television?"

  Darryl grinned and nodded. "Yes. I bought it with church donations. Don't tell the parishioners."

  "Watch the human programs. Maybe they can answer some of the questions you have," Kelli said.

  Tojo immediately turned it on. It slowly warmed up and an image danced in static.

  "Pull up the rabbit ears and twist them around," Darryl suggested.

  Tojo did as instructed and soon an image of two combatants in a wrestling ring sharpened on the tube.

  "What is this?" Tojo asked.

  Darryl squinted at the screen. "It's wrestling."

  Tojo's eyes brightened in realization. "I have heard the kids at school talk about this. It's a sport, right?"

  "Yes and no, I think," Darryl said.

  "Can I watch it?" Tojo asked.

  "Sure. You can watch whatever you desire for as long as you desire," Darryl said. "But if you are going to watch wrestling, promise me something."

  "What?" Tojo answered, his eyes glued to the television as he spoke.

  "Root for the bad guy. He might be one of us."

  3.

  August 15th, 1978

  Tyler, Texas

  It was 12:13AM. Tojo stood with his parents in the darkened living room. Black candles burned next to framed family pictures on the wall shelves. A sacrificial goat was tethered to the front door with a piece of rope.

  Each family member wore a black ceremonial robe. But Tojo's was small on him. It barely wrapped his gut and it came up to his knees. Tojo had grown much larger than his parents. He dwarfed them.

  "Today you are eighteen in earth years," Darryl announced. "This is the ceremony of declaration for Eden-born. A human becomes an adult at this age. An Eden-born must have a path to follow at this time. This is the day you decide your direction and once taken, only Hell can pull you off it."

  Darryl unfurled an aged piece of parchment and read in a demon tongue that Tojo couldn't follow. After a few moments, Darryl rolled the parchment back up and motioned to Tojo.

  "Tojo Smith, how will you contribute to Hell?" Darryl asked.

  Tojo looked back and forth between his parents, who awaited his proclamation with stone-faced curiosity. "I am going to be a professional wrestler. A bad guy. A heel."

  Darryl and Kelli looked slowly to each other, and then back up at their son.

  Kelli finally spoke. "It sounds a little... unseemly. I thought you might take up the pulpit like your father."

  Tojo pulled back the hood to his robe and ran a hand through his sweaty brown hair. "Look at me, Mama- I am a mountain. I'm huge and mean-looking and no man out there can hurt me. I grew up with heroes like Fred Blassie, Buddy Rogers, Gorgeous George, Crusher and Dick the Bruiser, The Masked Spoiler. This is what I want to do. It speaks to me."

  "The declaration has been made, Kelli. It's decided," Darryl said.

  "But people will recognize him. It might hurt our position in the community," Kelli insisted, and Tojo was shocked at how much his mama was bothered by all of this.

  "I will use a stage name and wear a mask, if I have to," Tojo assured his mother.

  "It's honest hate work," Darryl acknowledged.

  "I am leaving next week for a wrestling school in Humble," Tojo informed them. "I am going to make you proud. I am going to make
Hell proud."

  Kelli sighed and smiled despite her reservations. "Hail Satan," she offered.

  "Hail Satan," Darryl and Tojo said together.

  "Please show your demon skin for the next part of the ceremony," Darryl said.

  They all swallowed up their human hide. Darryl and Kelli had the more common hue of gray to their scales. Tojo's were bright red, because Eden-born were usually more colorful than lower demons.

  Darryl collected three heavy goblets and a large dagger from the coffee table. His orange eyes glowed hungrily.

  "It is time for a toast!" he announced, walking toward the goat.