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Here's a Thought
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My dinner with Evil
'So', Evil muttered as it cut into a heavily sour-creamed baked potato,
'you have come to ask me for a favor.'
'No, no!', I exclaimed, 'this is the favor. Just coming to dinner. That's
all. That's all I wanted.'
The black in the centre of its pure white eyes thinned and looked deep
into my soul for honesty. 'Dinner.'
'Yes', I responded, beads of
sweat emerging from my armpits.
'Just my presence will suffice.'
'Right.'
'You shall pick up the tab?'
'Are you going to get dessert?'
'I do not believe so.'
'Then yes.'
Then quiet. Evil stared at the starchy chunk of vegetable on the edge of
its fork. I wiped my brow and realized I wasn't ready to bring out my
notepad full of questions. Evil's empty eyes rose from his morsel of food
to meet mine.
'Do you know how many African peasants died for us to able to have this
meal here tonight?'
I briefly considered answering a number (perhaps seven), but then decided
on the slightly safer answer, 'No.'
'None.' And without cracking a smile or opening its mouth, Evil's hollow,
shrieking laughter rattled through my skull. I force out a wheezed chuckle
as I prayed the jarring noises within my brain would die down. I was
starting to get a headache from his howls. Then my headache turned to a
flash of disorienting nausea and for a second blackness was all I saw.
'Here', he said, handing his napkin to me, 'your nose is bleeding.'
'So it is', I said as calmly as possible, hoping not to succumb to a brain
aneurysm thanks to a crappy joke. As I wipe my nose with the donated
napkin and leave the whole thing drenched in Dracula’s finest, I resolve
to get to the reason behind this meeting as soon as possible. I wasn’t
just playing with death; I was wining and dining him.
But before I can dig through my fanny pack for my notes, a young woman in
a conservative black dress walks up to our table and addresses my guest
with venom in her eyes.
'Pig!' she snarled, and threw my drink in its face, ‘My daughter died in
her crib at three months thanks to you!'
‘Hey wait-’, I began, as several
tables turn to the commotion.
‘And you!’ she said, turning to
me with a thankfully empty glass, ‘treating him this way! Encouraging
him!’
‘It’s not a him-’, I try again,
but she’s already spun around and is marching back to her table. I quickly
look across to Evil, who seems to be more preoccupied with dabbing itself
dry with another napkin than cursing our interloper.
'I'm sorry about that', I offered nervously.
'It happens frequently when I leave the shadows and recesses of man's
darkest secrets and go to an upscale restaurant.'
'Do you go out often?'
’Are you referring to romantic pursuits?’
'No, this isn’t a date.'
'A date?'
'Never mind.’ I cleared my throat and averted its eyes as I proceeded: 'Do
you mind if I ask you a question?'
'I do not.'
‘Do you think the concept of evil is misrepresented in mainstream media?’
'I try to avoid reading the newspapers.’
‘Oh, hold on’, I said, and dug
out my digital recorder and placed it on the table. ‘Okay, go ahead.’
Evil looked down upon the device
with a frown.
‘What is this?’
‘It’s a recorder. You know, so I
can transcribe all this later.’
‘You are going to write of this
meeting?’
‘Well, yeah. Then I’ll send out
to some publications and see if I get any offers.’
‘Offers?’
‘I freelance.’
'You lied to me', it said, jabbing a pale finger in my direction, 'you
told me it was only dinner.'
'Well, yes, yes, okay, I did, but it's going to be the worst thing I do
all day, I promise.’
‘You promise? I should take your
word now, after you threw it in the gutter?’
‘You, uh, shouldn't really be
pointing fingers if you think about it. I mean,\... what's on tap for you
this evening?'
'I have to plunge a bus full of children off a cliff in Uruguay.'
'See?'
'See what?', Evil countered, stuffing its last forkful of steak into its
mouth and swallowing it without chewing, 'I see nothing but a little liar
in front of me.'
'So I told a small fib!' I yelled, 'You're going to kill a whole bunch of
kids tonight!' Several tables turned to look at us again.
'Are you saying what am I do is worse?'
'Yes! Yes, of course!'
'Are you sure?'
His pressing of the issue robbed me of my certainty. ‘Well, uh…ethically…
no one’s dead after what I did…right?’
'Tell you what', it said, shifting out of the booth and standing up,
almost bumping its head on the ceiling, 'this meal is on me. You have
enough problems as it is.'
'Oh, no-'
'Oh yes', he said firmly, pulling a one hundred dollar bill out of thin
air and placing it on the table, ‘you do. I may take a lot from humanity,
but I always leave people the most important part of themselves. Something
only you yourself can destroy. It’s-’
’Uh, I think dinner’s going to be more than one hundred dollars. I’m…um…
planning on getting another bottle of wine.’
Evil stares into my soul. I just
stare back. I really had my heart set on an after dinner Shiraz and was
now hoping it wasn’t going to cost me my family being slaughtered over
Easter weekend by an escaped mental patient.
With thin slits for eyes, he
makes another one hundred dollar bill appear on the table.
‘Thanks a bunch’, I tell him.
‘Spend the tip on a homeless
man.’
And with that, Evil grabs its
trench coat and fedora and walks out of the restaurant. I beckon my waiter
with a defiant snapping of the fingers. Now it will be two bottles of
wine.
END
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if you stare into the dark the dark will stare back
back into your soulllllll |