Compromise for the Devil
One morning, I woke up, looked in the mirror, and couldn’t believe what I saw. It was my father’s face looking back at me, laughing. “You knew this would happen someday”, it said. Rubbing my eyes in disbelief, it was my face, as an old man, coming into focus. I admit, it now resembled my dad’s. “Still, how could that be?” I wondered aloud. It seems like only yesterday, I was a young boy running barefoot under the sun.
The mirror image said, “how can that be – indeed! Perhaps I’m the voice of age and wisdom here to gently remind you of what you once were, and what you have become, what you once had, and what you’ve now lost. I’m here to remind you of the importance of sound decisions, and possibly to remind you of where you may have gone astray”.
You sound more like the “voice of cruelty and malevolence”, I observed.
“Ah - you have unmasked me”, he admitted, his new visage emerging before me, complete with a bright red complexion, horns, and smoke rising here and there from his frame. “You may recall that we’ve met many times before. True, I have appeared under a variety of guises. Those episodes as your first wife and first boss stand out as particularly amusing. You may wonder why, this morning, I chose to appear as yourself.”
The devil seemed to be eagerly awaiting a question in response to his sly suggestion. I could see that he takes a great deal of delight in these encounters, unpleasant though they may be to those who must engage with his clever repartee. So, bleary eyed, I had only a nagging instinct to avoid disappointing his expectations. He seemed like a kid in a candy store, or rather, someone who was ready to steal candy from a baby.
The fact was, though, I was tired. I’ve lived a long life, and it seems I’ve been through just about every kind, and every combination and permutation of disappointment. So, quite honestly, this horned creature, who seemed to sizzle, bubble and melt all about his chiseled, red physique, and who seemed to be gleefully ready to spring a trap, represented only just another tired iteration of the same theme. Not to let him down, and hopefully to get through the interview as quickly as possible, I took the bait, “exactly, why, devil, have you chosen this particular morning to reveal yourself to me, as me?”
“Ah, I knew you would ask”, he replied. “As I said, I have been much amused, over the years, disguising my identity, and slowly but surely persuading you to sell your soul, piece by piece, over the course of your miserable life. I take delight in the big events, watching as you took the wrong people into your confidence and took the wrong jobs. Also, I find a way to appreciate the little things, like appearing as a waiter, and recommending the wrong dish”.
“Go on”, I said politely, not doing a very good job at feigning interest, but in no way breaking the devil’s rhythm, as he didn’t skip a beat. Undoubtedly, it was his vast, essentially eternal, experience with this type of conversation that accounted for the impeccable timing of that rhythm, complete with syncopation and rim shots.
“As I was saying”, continued the devil, “I appear in many guises, but I want you to know how it is that I have completely defeated you, rendering you as the disheveled pile of protoplasm that slumps before me.”
“Surprise me”, I said.
“It was in this way, which, if I say so myself, was devilishly clever. I not only appeared in front of you, but I gained access to appear within you, as you, entering your mind, your heart, and your soul. I then infused you with these messages: You have little value; You must compromise”.
This last word he spoke provokingly and slowly, as if he felt I was cognitively impaired. In fact, he didn’t really finish saying the word, because, in a sudden fit of anger, I grabbed him at the place where his neck, like the rest of his admirably fit body, was turning to smoke. Just then, I found myself waking up in bed, as the boy who just yesterday was running under the sun. It was another sunny day, and ain’t nobody was gonna turn me around.
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