The Devil and Danielle Webster Read Free

Dream
of Jeannie was nice.”
    “I’m nice,” he said, looking hurt.  “By the way, that
was well spotted, for an atheist.  And as an atheist, since you don’t feel
that souls exist, you may as well consider this to be free of charge.”
    “Who told you I’m an atheist?”
    “I’ve checked on you.  And I’ve had conversations with
a member of your church.  You haven’t set foot there except at Christmas
for two years.”
    “You’ve been talking to my mother,” I accused him. 
“Leave it to her to get me in trouble with Satan.  I’ll tell you what I
tell her.  I need my Sundays to catch up on sleep.”
    “You’re a lapsed Lutheran.”
    “No, I’m an agnostic Lutheran deist.”
    “Same difference.”
    “Besides, according to Lutheran beliefs, once you’re saved,
you’re saved.  No one can take my salvation away from me.”
    “Well, there you have it,” the nondescript man said
cheerfully.  “To you, it’s like getting your night of passion free of
charge.”
    I thought of the sleepless night ahead.  A vision of
Doug and me, beguiling the earliest morning hours, rose before me, and I plead
temporary insanity for what happened next. 
    “Deal.”
    The man whipped out a contract.  The ink seemed barely
dry, and something about the document seemed to be irritating my eyes.  I
blinked and could make out these words: “A night of passion with Douglas Robert
Morris for Danielle Joy Webster, to be delivered by Prince of Darkness
Enterprises, in exchange for the soul of Ms. Webster, payment date to be
determined later.”  That was the large print.  There were a couple
paragraphs of really small print, but my eyes were watering so badly I couldn’t
read much of it.
    “Sign here,” the nondescript man said blandly, clipboard and
gilt pen extended.  Doug Morris Doug Morris Doug Morris Doug Morris
floated hypnotically in my brain.  I signed my name, Danielle Joy Webster,
with a flourish.  I pushed the contract back to him and said, “When?”
    “Oh, immediate delivery,” and with that he was gone,
vanished, vamoosed.  I stood there, head spinning. 

Chapter
2 – A Night of Passion
     
     
    When my dizziness subsided, I found myself back in my motel
room.  Gone was the deserted lobby and gone the nondescript man.  I
didn’t even have time to text Jill, who would have wanted dispatches every five
minutes thereafter.      
    The clock radio read 2 AM.  A vaguely familiar
middle-aged guy with a pronounced beer gut and receding hairline knelt in the
middle of my bed, clutching the bedspread.  He was wearing a white teeshirt and plaid boxers.  His hair, a disordered mix
of gold and silver, looked about three months overdue for a haircut.  Silver
was mixed in with his curly brown beard and chest hair, as well.  The
overall effect was grizzled.  I caught a distasteful glimpse of thick
toenails.   
    “Gross!” I said, horrified.  “This is a bait and
switch!”  The panicked look on this man’s face did not lead to visions of
ardent lovemaking.  In fact, the only emotion this man aroused was
repulsion.  What had I been thinking of?  Why hadn’t I clarified with
the nondescript man that my fantasy required my 23-year-old self? 
    But the suave salesman with the sulfurous odor was no longer
around to hear me.  As I gazed upon my bed, a heavy piece of paper floated
down, and I swear I heard some far-off laughter.  It was my contract,
signed not only by me, but also by a “Daemon Lucifer,” in a dashing and ornate
style.  Ha.  So that was how the nondescript man styled
himself.  I grabbed it, thinking to rip it up, but native caution stopped
me.  Perhaps I should wait to see what advice Jill could give me first.
     “Where am I?” the stranger said, still hanging on to
the motel bedspread.  He appeared to be suffering from vertigo. 
“Where’s Tina?”
    Tina was the girl Doug Morris had dumped me for.  “Hi,
Doug,” I said, trying to hide my lack of