I once met a man, with a feral look and a skull full of busted wiring, who claimed he was the Devil. He did not react well when I laughed at him. There was really no choice. I had to school him. Educate him in the mathematics of the cosmos.
When I said he was not the Devil, he was just thick enough to ask me why I thought that. To which, with a maniacal smirk, a growl, and a predatory gaze, I said;
"Because I fucked the Devil's wife. And after I left her, fucked into unconsciousness, within the bowels of a dingy back ally that smelled of cinnamon, rotten apples, and sticky-sweet sex, in the last position I had her in, I paid the Devil a little visit. I beat the Devil out of several souls in an invigorating game of gin rummy.
"I have met the Devil, and he bares his jugular to me. The Devil knows I will eat his liver, grind his precious empire beneath my heel, steal his wife, and make goo-goo eyes at his daughter. I have met the Devil, and you ain't him!"
There is a certain look Homo sapiens get when they are truly broken. And the man had it. Oh, yes. And, trust me, every last word of it is true, even and especially the lies.
An unusual choice of topic but nonetheless you pull it together ferociously well. It is brutal; savage in ways that are hard to define. Truly visceral.
ReplyDeleteThank you. Truthfully, I caught myself how the dialog would sound as spoken word, though I doubt I'd ever do something like that.
ReplyDeleteWas I not following you yet when you wrote this? Why have I never read this before? (I feel I have failed you somehow.)
ReplyDeleteAlso, I'm making apple crumble for Christmas tomorrow, and now all I'll think about when I mix in the cinnamon will be you and the Devil's Wife. Such a pleasant holiday thought...
I think I put this up right before or just shortly after you started reading my stuff.
ReplyDeleteHappy for the holiday thought ]:)