Personal Story: The Devil's Work
The place looked clean and pleasant enough. The floors were recently polished and the ceiling looked freshly painted. The walls were padded with pastel-colored foam, as though someone were trying to stop me from commiting suicide. The secretaries were polite and pretty. And everyone went out of their way to serve me, addressing me with the words "counselor this" or "counselor that." But try as I might, I just couldn't remember how I had gotten here or where I was.
Until I slipped and banged my head on the floor, that is. Suddenly, it all came back to me. The street hobo, the devil and my first slip and fall. I could remember everything. Everything!
It all started innocently enough when last week, on my way to a movie, I dropped a dollar in the money can of the pathetic beggar who sits down the street from my apartment building.
"Is that all?," asked the beggar in the most unlovely way.
"Yes," I snapped back and started to walk away.
"Not so quick, His Serene Highness!," he shouted.
This stopped me dead in my tracks. "The vagabond knows my name!," I thought to myself.
"Aha," he continued, with the most smug smile, "surely, you must be thinking, 'How in heaven's name does the bum know my name?'. True?"
I just stood there in silence.
"Well, my name is Amanyafel," he said, "and I am the devil's son. I always dreamed of spending time in NY. When I turned 21 and approached my dad with the idea of moving to NY for a little while, he surprised me by agreeing to this. But instead of sending me to the city in the guise of a wealthy playboy, my dad--he is the devil after all--sent me here as a homeless man. He wants to make sure I return to hell. Trust me, after living on the streets of NY, even hell is a better place."
I started to back away, relieved to find out this guy was just a lunatic, though, at the same time, somewhat bothered with the knowledge that he knew my name.
"Not so fast, Magnificent D!," he said again, "I am not done with you!"
I ignored him and kept on walking.
"Stop!," I could hear Amanyafel shout. But I refused to, until I slipped and banged my head on the floor, that is. Then Amanyafel grabbed my hands and dragged me back to his little spot on the sidewalk.
How could this be happening to me, I kept on thinking. How come no one was coming to my aid.
But then Amanyafel slipped too, and his boot came off. This horrified me even more. He had the foot of a chicken, claws and all. This was the surest sign to me that he was indeed the son of the devil. Perhaps the devil himself! I am embarrassed to say, I started to sob.
"What do you want from me?," I screamed. "Please let me go!"
"Very well," Amanyafel said, "I will let you go, but not before you agree to work for my dad."
"But I am a lawyer," I protested, "not the keeper of hell!"
"Oh, don't you worry," Amanyafel answered, "my father will be thrilled. He owns most Wall Street law firms in the City. Honestly, just a pick a firm."
Oops, must take this call...
His Serene Highness,
The Magnificent D
Until I slipped and banged my head on the floor, that is. Suddenly, it all came back to me. The street hobo, the devil and my first slip and fall. I could remember everything. Everything!
It all started innocently enough when last week, on my way to a movie, I dropped a dollar in the money can of the pathetic beggar who sits down the street from my apartment building.
"Is that all?," asked the beggar in the most unlovely way.
"Yes," I snapped back and started to walk away.
"Not so quick, His Serene Highness!," he shouted.
This stopped me dead in my tracks. "The vagabond knows my name!," I thought to myself.
"Aha," he continued, with the most smug smile, "surely, you must be thinking, 'How in heaven's name does the bum know my name?'. True?"
I just stood there in silence.
"Well, my name is Amanyafel," he said, "and I am the devil's son. I always dreamed of spending time in NY. When I turned 21 and approached my dad with the idea of moving to NY for a little while, he surprised me by agreeing to this. But instead of sending me to the city in the guise of a wealthy playboy, my dad--he is the devil after all--sent me here as a homeless man. He wants to make sure I return to hell. Trust me, after living on the streets of NY, even hell is a better place."
I started to back away, relieved to find out this guy was just a lunatic, though, at the same time, somewhat bothered with the knowledge that he knew my name.
"Not so fast, Magnificent D!," he said again, "I am not done with you!"
I ignored him and kept on walking.
"Stop!," I could hear Amanyafel shout. But I refused to, until I slipped and banged my head on the floor, that is. Then Amanyafel grabbed my hands and dragged me back to his little spot on the sidewalk.
How could this be happening to me, I kept on thinking. How come no one was coming to my aid.
But then Amanyafel slipped too, and his boot came off. This horrified me even more. He had the foot of a chicken, claws and all. This was the surest sign to me that he was indeed the son of the devil. Perhaps the devil himself! I am embarrassed to say, I started to sob.
"What do you want from me?," I screamed. "Please let me go!"
"Very well," Amanyafel said, "I will let you go, but not before you agree to work for my dad."
"But I am a lawyer," I protested, "not the keeper of hell!"
"Oh, don't you worry," Amanyafel answered, "my father will be thrilled. He owns most Wall Street law firms in the City. Honestly, just a pick a firm."
Oops, must take this call...
His Serene Highness,
The Magnificent D
posted by The Magnificent D at 2:00 PM
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