The Devil was first published in Cirque Journal, Volume 11, Number 2, in June of 2021
The knock on the door came about 3:30 or so. I was sitting by the window, trying to keep cool, watching the cars drive by and doing a crossword puzzle. You know, usual lazy Saturday afternoon shit. It wasn’t a hard knock. No, it was one of those light taps. The kind that makes you think the person on the other side might be a little shy or something. I don’t think anything about it, so I put down my newspaper and glass of sun tea and walk over to the door. Now of course we don’t have any peepholes, fucking peepholes are a luxury, so I just pull the door open to look and see who it is. I don’t do any of that half open crap. I just pull it full open. You know me, what the hell do I have to worry about? Anyways, I pull the door open and there he is, the devil, just standing in the hall.
I know what you’re thinking. How the hell did I know he was the devil? Ain’t the devil supposed to be sneaky or something? I don’t know much about that, but he was definitely the devil. Red skin, black goatee, cloven hooves, horns on his head. It was pretty hard to mistake him for anybody else. We just kind of sat there staring at each other for awhile, him just kind of fidgeting in the hall, me just waiting for him to say something. I could tell he wanted something, and I really wanted him to make the first move, but I’m not the most patient man, especially when I have a glass of sun tea and crossword puzzle waiting for me.
Tiring of such crap, I finally said, “what you want devil?”
The devil took in a big breath and let it out. “It sure is hot out today,” he said.
Ain’t that something, the damn devil complaining about the heat. I shot right back, “can’t be any hotter than hell I bet.”
“We usually keep it at 65 degrees Celsius or so,” said the devil.
“Celsius,” I replied, “what the hell is that in Fahrenheit?”
“I don’t know,” he said with another sigh. “I think it's more the humidity. It's more of a dry heat in hell.”
After that we just stood there looking at each other again. The fucker wouldn’t get around to whatever the hell he wanted, and I sure as hell didn’t want to stand by the damn door all day. The ice shifted in my sun tea and we both turned to look at the glass by the open window.
“Is that sun tea,” asked the devil?
“Yeah,” I answered.
“Do you think I could have a glass,” he asked?
Now there was no way in hell that I was going to let the devil in my house. My mother didn’t raise a damn fool.
“This ain’t no trick, is it,” I said?
“Naw,” replied the devil, “I was just damning a guy down the hall. Apartment 4E. I just didn’t expect it to be so hot in this building.”
Now this sounded plausible, after all, you know Mr. Monroe, dried up old piece of shit. Plus it was pretty fucking hot out in the hallway. So I said, “yeah, it is pretty fucking hot.”
“You should get some air conditioning in this place,” said the devil.
“Yeah,” I replied, “that would be nice, but the landlord is a tight ass.”
“Yeah,” said the devil, “I believe that.” Then he gave kind of a knowing chuckle like he knew the landlord or something. I don’t know, my mother didn’t raise no damn fool, but she didn’t raise a rude bastard either. I mean shit, the guy might be the devil, but that was no reason to be impolite.
“If you wait here,” I said, “I’ll go get you a glass of sun tea.”
“Thank you,” answered the devil, “much obliged.”
Well, I’m a fucking idiot. I went to the kitchen and poured the devil a big glass of sun tea, even wrapped it in a wet paper towel to keep it cool. Of course when I came back he was already in the apartment, peering at my pictures on the wall, his frickin hooves scuffing up the hardwoods. I should have known better, but I hadn’t shut the door behind me, so now I had the devil in my home.
“I thought I told you to wait in the hall,” I said.
“Sorry,” said the devil, “it was just so hot out there. Just let me have my drink and I’ll be going.”
“Okay,” I said, “just don’t touch nothing.”
There wasn’t really much I could do. The devil was a big fella. You could tell that he worked out. He carried his arms the way weightlifters do, slightly out and bent at the elbows like he couldn’t get them all the way down to his sides. It didn’t really seem necessary to carry his arms like that, he wasn’t the most cut guy I’d ever seen, but I was still pretty sure I couldn’t shift him. The bastard noticed me looking at him and gave his arms a little flex.
“I can bench 285,” he said.
“Ain’t that something,” I said.
I handed the devil his tea and he got himself settled on the couch. Swear to god it must have taken him five minutes. He kept adjusting the cushions and slightly changing his position. Those poor old couch springs were squeaking like a bag of mice. Not knowing what else to do, I took back my position in the chair next to the window. The devil finally got himself settled, took a long sip of tea, and let out a sigh that sounded like it ought to have been coming from a lion.
“That’s some good tea,” he said.
“Thank you,” I replied, “my mother taught me how to make some damn good sun tea.”
“Would you mind watching your language,” he said.
“Sorry,” I answered.
We kind of sat there quiet for awhile, him sipping his tea and playing with the edge of the paper towel, me staring out the window and doing my best to ignore him. Every now and again he’d say something, some crap about the weather or other such nonsense, you know, trying to start a conversation, but I’d only give him grunts in response. The devil was taking his sweet ass time with that sun tea. Just little sips every now and again, sometimes crunching on chunk of ice. We probably sat there for an hour like that. Finally the last drops went in him and I started to perk up a bit. The devil didn’t get up though, he just sat there on the couch, smacking his lips appreciatively.
“May I have another,” he asked?
“You said you just wanted one,” I replied.
“I’m still pretty thirsty,” he said.
Well now my blood was boiling, but what the hell was I supposed to do about it? The devil just sat there, blinking at me like an innocent lamb, his big red hands wrapped around the glass.
“Just one more glass,” he said, “then I’ll be going. Still a bit of damning to do today.”
I said a few choice words under my breath, quiet enough where the devil wouldn’t be able to make them out, but loud enough so he would know that I was doing it, got up, took his glass, and went back into the kitchen. I poured him another glass of sun tea from the pitcher, and wrapped it with a fresh wet paper towel to keep it cool. When I went back into the main room the devil was still sitting on the couch, but he was looking at all my stuff. I didn’t like how he was doing it. He was doing it in that way where you know someone thinks you decorate with tacky garbage, but they’re not going to say anything because it would be impolite. I walked over and handed the devil back his glass.
“This is a nice place,” he said, “what’s it cost you in rent?”
“That’s none of your business,” I replied.
“Ever think about having a roommate,” he asked?
That was it for me. I could see where this was going from a mile away. “Don’t need one,” I said. “I prefer living alone.”
“Really,” said the devil, “I think I’d get lonely.”
“Excuse me,” I said, slipping back to the bedroom. I closed the door behind me, grabbed my phone from where it was charging on the bedside table, and went into the closet to make a call. You know how small my apartment is, and I sure the hell didn’t want the devil to hear me. Things were getting out of hand and I needed help. Luckily I knew a guy.
The phone rang six times before he picked up. “Hello,” said Jesus. His voice sounded kind of loopy, like I just woke him up from a nap or something. I could hear a woman’s voice in the background.
“Hello Jesus,” I said, “It’s Joe. I kind of got a bit of a problem.”
“Jesus,” said Jesus. “It’s my day off.”
“Sorry,” I said, “but the devil’s in my apartment and he won’t get out.”
“How’d he get in your apartment,” asked Jesus?
“He wanted some sun tea,” I replied, “when I went to get it for him he just walked in.”
“Ha,” said Jesus, “classic devil.”
“So you going to come over,” I asked?
“Christ Joe,” he replied, “it’s my one day off, and I probably shouldn’t be driving.”
“I go to church every Sunday Jesus,” I said, “doesn’t that count for anything any more?”
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll be over in about fifteen minutes.”
Jesus hung up on his end. I got out of the closet, plugged my phone back in, and went back into the main room. The devil was still sipping on his sun tea, though now he had his hooves up on my coffee table and was reading a People magazine through a pair of delicate reading glasses perched on his nose. I don’t know where the hell he got it. I don’t read People.
“Who were you talking to,” asked the devil?
“My mother,” I replied.
The devil grinned in a way that made me want to punch him in the face. “How is she doing,” he asked?
“Fine,” I said.
It took Jesus forty-five minutes to get to my apartment. Forty-five minutes of watching the devil sip sun tea and make snarky remarks about celebrities. The knock on the door was forceful, several quick hard raps.
The devil glanced over his reading glasses. “Who could that be,” he asked?
“I’ll go see,” I replied.
Jesus was a little worse for wear. When I answered the door he was wearing a stained AC-DC t-shirt and a pair of baggy bermuda shorts that made his thin white legs look like toothpicks. His shaggy hair was pulled back in a ponytail and his beard was pretty ratty. He smelled a little bit. Grumpy is the term I’d use to describe his face. After a perfunctory greeting Jesus pushed past me into the main room. His eyes tracked across my stuff.
“Christ what a bunch of crap,” he said.
The devil was eying Jesus from the couch. “What are you doing here,” he asked?
Jesus clapped his hands together and gestured towards the door. “Time to leave man. Let's go.”
The devil casually took off his reading glasses and returned them to a case in his pocket. “I thoughty today was your day off,” he said.
Jesus chewed on the insides of his cheeks and narrowed his eyes. He was shivering with impatience. “Lucifer Beelzebub Satan,” he said, “it's time to get your ass out of here.”
“No,” answered the devil, “I kind of like it here. It’s very homey, plus I haven’t finished my magazine yet.”
Jesus was really pissed. You should have seen him. Just shaking. “C’mon man,” he said, “I got a girl down from Seattle. She’s got to catch the train tomorrow. I don’t have time for this shit.”
“Not my problem,” replied the devil.
“Damn it,” said Jesus.
“Watch your language,” said the devil.
“Fuck it,” said Jesus, and with that he charged forward and tried to manhandle the devil off the couch. It went exactly as well as you can imagine. Jesus probably didn’t weigh 130 pounds soaking wet. The devil let Jesus pull and twist at him for about a minute, and then, growing tired of it, casually threw Jesus to the floor with the indifference of a man throwing away a used tissue. I scrambled forward to help Jesus up, because you know, he’s Jesus.
“Are you alright,” I asked?
“Do you have a phone,” he questioned?
“Yeah,” I said, “in the bedroom.”
“Be right back,” he said, and with that, Jesus went into my bedroom and shut the door behind him. The devil got back out his reading glasses and went back to his People magazine. I sat back down by the window and clenched my fists. The devil peered at me over the top of his glasses.
“You know,” he said, “letting yourself get so stressed out is going to take years off your life.” I didn’t answer. Jesus came out of the bedroom. “Who did you call,” asked the devil, “your dad?”
“No,” said Jesus, sitting down on the other side of the couch.
“Whatever,” said the devil.
“Can I have some sun tea,” asked Jesus?
“Me too,” said the devil, rattling the ice in his empty glass.
What else could I do? I mean after all, the guy did come all the way over to try and help me, even if it wasn’t working out so well. So I went in the kitchen and fixed them both up a glass of sun tea, pouring out the last of the pitcher. When I came back into the main room the devil was making comments about celebrities again, while Jesus mostly chewed on his fingernails and kept glancing at the apartment door. Things stayed that way for probably around half an hour before someone knocked. I started to rise, but Jesus beat me to the jump, springing up and rushing to the door like an anxious girl waiting for her prom date. The devil and I sat waiting, listening to muffled voices before Jesus came back into the main room, followed by a tall man in a blue uniform.
“Really,” said the devil, “you called the police.”
Jesus pointed at the devil with an imperious finger. “That’s him officer. That’s the trespasser.”
The policeman pushed his way past Jesus, his face stern until the moment he got a good look at the culprit. The devil smiled so sweet and the officer grinned in return.
“Lucifer, you old so and so”, said the officer, “how are you?”
“Doing well Frank,” replied the devil, “how’s the kids?”
“Fine, just fine,” said the officer, “growing like weeds. You going to make Roy’s barbeque next week?”
“I was planning to,” said the devil.
This was all a bit too much for Jesus I’m afraid. He stood there, mouth agape, sucking air, and finally managed to squeeze out a single bark of an expletive.
“Fuck,” said Jesus.
“Is there any problem here Luci,” asked the police officer?
“No,” said the devil, “just a bit of a misunderstanding.”
“Alright then,” said the police officer.
Jesus kept looking from the devil, to the police officer, to me. Tears of frustration were flowing down his cheeks. I just felt numb, though I did feel pretty sorry for Jesus. It had to be pretty embarrassing having a breakdown like that in front of everybody. With his face bright red, he fled out into the hall. The devil blew air out through his lips with exasperation and then gestured towards me.
“Do we have any more sun tea?”
“No,” I replied. “We’re all out.”
“That’s a shame,” said the devil, turning to the police officer. “I’m sorry Frank, afraid we can’t be as hospitable as I hoped.”
“That’s okay,” said the police officer. “Is that fella going to be all right?”
“Don’t worry about him,” replied the devil. “Sometimes he just gets that way.”
So that was that. That’s the whole story. I can tell you think it’s a bunch of bullshit, but it’s the honest truth. Do you understand now? That’s why I stole your hundred dollars and slept with your fine ass cousin, because the devil’s in my apartment. I have the devil living with me and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.