“Good Lord! How did you get in here?”
Mrs. O’Connor stared at the tall man standing in her kitcher. His hair was slicked back from a high forehead and his goatee was perfectly trimmed. There was a faint smell of burnt toast.
“I swear I just checked all the doors. And I lock all the windows a person could fit through.” She sniffed and walked around him to check the back door. “Locked, you see.” She unplugged the toaster, checked the stove and oven were turned off.
“I can get in anywhere I want.” The man’s voice was deep and smooth. Mrs. O’Connor thought of the ad with the liquid chocolate pouring luxuriantly.
“I don’t like that tone, young man.”
“I’m anything but young, Mrs. O’Connor. I’m older than your very world.”
Mrs. O’Connor blushed to the roots of her blue-rinse hair. The man’s voice poured chocolate over parts of her anatomy she hadn’t shown any man in years. “Well, it’s not very nice to appear in someone’s kitchen and not even introduce yourself.” She tried to sound angry, hoping he wouldn’t notice the blush.
“I’m anything but nice, Mrs. O’Connor. Do you not know who I am?”
Mrs. O’Connor looked at his hair, manicure, floor-length leather coat and ridiculously pointed boots. “Maybe I do but what can I call you?” The scent of burning increased, Mrs. O’Connor thought she detected the edge of a scorch mark under his feet.
“You may call me Lucifer.”
Chocolate poured, over images few sixty-seven year olds found suitable viewing. “Can I call you Beelzebub?”
“No.” A drop formed.
“Can I call you the Dark Lord?”
“No.” The drop filled out, refusing to fall.
“Can I call you the Anti-Christ?”
“No.” The drop was straining to fall, pulling under it’s own weight of liquid chocolate. Mrs. O’Connor waited, barely breathing.
“Don’t you want to know why I’m here?” The drop fell, sending a splash of heat through Mrs. O’Connor, spreading from her hysterectomy scar outward.
“I have my suspicions.” Mrs. O’Connor grinned like a schoolgirl.
Lucifer frowned and the smell of burning increased. “I’m here to offer you a bargain: your son’s future for your soul.”
The mention of her son seemed highly inappropriate. Lucifer continued, “I will save him from his drug habit and his debts if you give me your soul for eternity.”
Mrs. O’Connor blushed, this time with anger. “My son is a lazy good-for-nothing. We gave him every opportunity and he refused every one of them. His brother’s are all doing well for themselves; it’s his choice to live as he does. We’ve all tried to reason with him, we’ve put him in treatment, paid his debts but nothing changes. Within a month it’s always back to the same.”
Lucifer stared, “Do you refuse my bargain? You are resigned to see you son depraved and miserable.”
“We’ve done it all and nothing’s worked. Your bargain is worthless and will leave two in the same state.” Mrs. O’Connor blinked back tears.
Lucifer stared and the lights in the kitchen dimmed. The burning increased and the smoke alarm in the hall began to beep. The lights went out leaving the gleam of Lucifer’s eyes bright in the kitchen. “You will regret your decision, Mrs. O’Connor.”
“Well, we’ll see. Wait a bit. I wanted to ask…it’s been a few years since Mr. O’Connor passed on and I miss the… company, you know.”
The eye’s glowed red. But Mrs. O’Connor continued, “You have a bit of a wayward reputation, I don’t suppose you could fit in a bit of a ravishing before you leave?”
The eyes burned fiercely, leaving imprints on Mrs. O’Connor’s retina, before disappearing completely. The lights came on, revealing two footprints scorched through the lino right to the cement floor underneath.
Mrs. O’Connor sighed, “Typical man, never think things through, leave a mess and don’t even do what you ask them to.”
