I sat, hunched over a book in the library, flipping through the pages, fascinated at what I was reading. The source of my curiosity, a pamphlet on Satanism, was next to me.
A week ago I had had this little folded piece of paper shoved into my hands outside a theater when I had been passing, I had read it and became interested. I had taken refuge in the library where an old woman let me stay in due to the cold weather. I had found the Satanism for Beginners on the return rack and had picked it up, remembering the leaflet.
Upon exploring further I saw that Satanists were powerful people, strong, and never lost. No one fucked with an agent of hell.
Possibilities ran through my head like sparks of electricity. No more dealing with dad or Hannibal, I could protect Emily, save mum, my other siblings (the ones lucky enough to live with my grandparents) would all be impressed, and no more rejection from girls.
I looked over my shoulder to see if the woman who ran the library was anywhere near, she wasn't. Thinking quickly, I placed the pamphlet in the book and then stuffed it in my jacket, running out of the library.
I ran all the way back up the hill to my house and climbed in through my window (which I always left open in case of circumstances like this). By the sounds emanating from my dad's bedroom I guessed he'd managed to pick up a woman from the pub.
I fell asleep with the book in my arms, only to be woken up by the feel of my father's foot connecting with my stomach.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THIS HOUSE?" he screamed at me.
"I crawled in through the window! Please!" I pleaded, shielding my head from the blows. They stopped momentarily and I peeked out from under my arm, he raised a fist and shook it at me.
"You little shit! I should beat you for disobeying me-!" he stopped as he spied the book clutched in my other arm. Stooping down he pried it from my grip and examined it. "Satanism for beginners huh?" he said, looking at me and chuckling. "You wanna be a bloody Satanist? Go 'head." He threw the book at me and left, laughing.
I sat in the comfortable chair, one leg crossed over the other with a cigarette in my mouth as I negotiated with the Devil. The contract lay before me on the shiny oak table and in the corner, El Diablo, the legendary bass, gleamed.
"So, in exchange for fame, fortune, and better musical skill, you will consent to eternal servitude of the Prince of Darkness upon death?" he said, looking over at me from the top of his spectacles. I nodded impatiently.
"Yes, yes, can I sign the damn thing already?" I asked, Satan chuckled.
"Of course, can never be too eager to sell your soul now can you? As long as you follow the rules you should be set for a good- oh, 50 years or so?" I look forward to meeting you again." I signed under the lines he pointed to and handed back the pen.
"There," I said, smirking at him. The Prince of Lies smiled and handed me a necklace with an upside down cross on it.
"Just some free advertising now." He explained, I accepted it and stood up.
"Well, I'll see you around then old chap." I said. He shook my hand and I picked up El Diablo.
"Be careful with him," the Devil said, motioning to the bass guitar.
"Of course, of course." I waved him away. Satan smiled and when I blinked and opened my eyes I was back in my motel room.
I gently set El Diablo on the bed and went to go celebrate the selling of my soul, the only way I knew how to, by drinking.
Eventually one beer turned into ten and I found myself stumbling out of the bar and to my car with some not so innocent intentions on my mind.
You see, with my new promises of fame, fortune, and power I needed a band, and for a band I needed instruments. This thought came to mind right as I caught sight of a big sign: 'Uncle Norm's Keyboard Emporium'. Perfect. Smiling, I hit the gas and turned the wheel, hard.
I crashed right into the side so my car was half in, half out and opened the door. People outside were screaming and the store's alarm was going off as I lit a cigarette up.
"HELP! Somebody please!" muffled cries for assistance were heard, I slowly turned and saw someone stuck under my car. I laughed and lurched towards them.
"Hey!" I jeered, dragging my cigarette. "Hey you! Dullard, stop screamin' it'll only make it 'urt worse!" I mocked his cries.
Eventually he stopped struggling and I put my cigarette out on his pantleg and climbed back into my car. The moron was probably dead. I backed out of the store got out again to inspect the person.
He had an apron on and vibrantly blue hair, it was caked with blood from getting hit and a little screwed up but it was still a nice azure shade. One of his eyes was missing, me hitting him must've knocked the eyeball right out. He wasn't dead, I saw his chest rising and falling.
"Idiot." I growled as I went to check his nametag. It said 'Hi my name is Stuart' on it in big black letters. Figures, I thought to myself only a true idiot would have such a stupid name.
Sirens sounded and I hoisted myself up on the counter of the shop and lit another cigarette, dully admiring the flashing red and blue of the police cars fast approaching.