The International Writers Magazine: Your Wake Up Call

Between Heaven and Hell • Phillip E. Hardy Anselm’s Ontological Argument 1. Our understanding of God is a being than which no greater can be conceived. 2. The idea of God exists in the mind. 3. A being which exists both in the mind and in reality is greater than a being that exists only in the mind. 4. If God only exists in the mind, then we can conceive of a greater being—that which exists in reality. 5. We cannot be imagining something that is greater than God. 6. Therefore, God exists.

The Devil in my Den

One pitch-black night, after returning from playing a gig, I began developing the outline for completing my book. The entire power grid for my neighborhood had gone down, so I typed by candlelight until about 1:00. As I continued writing, I began to tire, finally dozing off in my chair. Upon the witching hour, I was startled awake. As my eyes focused, the tiny silhouette of a little cartoon devil appeared behind the flickering candle.

Little Devil
Bitch, do you need me to get you some Red Bull or Geritol? You got to stop swilling that decaf.

Me
I reached out to choke the little bastard, but he flew around the room like a hummingbird.

Little Devil
The small demon shook his head. “You are slow, old man. Why you hatin’, I’m here to help you with your book.” Just as, those words left his mouth, a cartoon angel appeared out of miniature celestial light.

Tiny Angel
“Don’t listen to him!” the angel shouted folding her diminutive arms. “He wants to throw you in the lake of fire.”

Little Devil
The small demon cackled. “Lake of fire, there ain’t no such thing you washed out bitch.”

Tiny Angel
“My sleepy Phillip, you know I’m right. Heaven and hell are real. If you listen to little Satan, you will lose your soul.”

Little Devil
Small Satan waived his arms, and suddenly he was wearing a gold lame suit. He shouted “Hit me,” and a horn section popped four times. He began to dance and sing I Feel Good at the speed of lightening. He scowled at the Tiny Angel. “Bitch, do I look like I ain’t got soul?” He turned to me grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “I’m on the level. I am here to help you.”

Tiny Angel
He is offering the kind of help that leads to hellfire and damnation.

Me
“I would like to hear what the little guy has to say.” I looked over at the sweet seraph shrugging my shoulders. “Why not?”

Little Devil
“That’s more like it.” He nodded in acknowledgement. “The boss would like private word with you.”

Me
“The boss?” I inquired.

Little Devil
“Yeah, the boss,” he answered motioning toward the French doors of my office. “You have to invite him in.”

Me
I rolled my eyes. “You mean like a vampire.”

Little Devil
“Yeah, like a vampire,” he answered sarcastically.

Tiny Angel
“No, no, no, no,” she said shaking her hand at me. “You do not invite the Prince of Darkness into your den.”

Me
“I’ll see your boss,” I said looking over at Little Devil. “Send Mister Scratch on in.”

Little Devil
“He doesn’t like that nickname.” Just at the words left his mouth, a strikingly handsome man dressing in a red Armani suit appeared from a silver cloud.

Me
Mister Mephistopheles I presume?

Satan
“I go by many names. Some people call me Mister Scratch or Mephistopheles as you just did, or Lucifer and Old Nick. You may call me Mister Mephisto.” Satan looked over at Little Devil, flipping his hand. “You may go minion.” Satan’s errand boy bowed his head and burrowed into the floor. Moments later, there was no trace of him or damage to the floor. The Tiny Angel hung her head down and sighed. Within a few seconds, she disappeared. "Good, now we can get down to business."

Me
What makes you think I would ever do business with you Mister Mephisto?

Satan
Come now Mister Hardy, you haven’t heard my proposition yet. I am here to help you. You claim to be writing the greatest self help book ever. Yet, I find your manuscript to be didactic and arrogant. However, that doesn’t mean I don’t wish to help you. How could it hurt to get a little bit of literary criticism?

Me
“Oh yeah, what do you know about writing books?” Suddenly I regretted asking such a pedestrian question.

Satan
“You would be surprised what famous writers have sought my counsel; let alone an unknown such as yourself.” Old Nick smiled. “No offense of course.”

Me
Sorry if I didn’t give the devil his due.

Satan
What a clever use of an old cliché. Mister Hardy, your problem is that you always think too small. In the last chapter, you half jokingly said that high and mighty God helps you navigate the calamities of the world. Perhaps, you have not been aware that I’m the one who has taken interest in you. I know you have confidence in your meager abilities. Why, if your arms were a bit longer, I think you’d pat yourself on the back. It’s a pity, because I think with some guidance, you could be so much more.

Me
“So, the ruler of the underworld wants to be my mentor?” My guest sat down in the chair next to me. He reached into his coat pocket to pull out a cigar. He carefully toasted his stogie and began taking a few puffs.

Satan
“My doctor says these things are going to kill me.” The Devil took a few more drags of his premium cigar. “Sorry, does the smoke bother you.”

Me
Nope, it only bothers me that you didn’t offer me one.

Satan
“Oh, sorry, where are my manners.” The well attired demon pulled another cigar out and gently handed it to me. He quickly snapped his fingers and lit my smoke with his forefinger. He snapped his fingers again, and a bottle of brandy appeared with two glasses. “Care for the best Napoleon Brandy?”

Me
Don’t mind if I do.

Satan
The devil quickly accommodated, handing me a snifter. “To your health sir,” he said raising his glass.

Me
I too raised my glass and then took a sip. “Damn, that’s good.

Satan
That is the best Napoleon brandy Mister Hardy.

Me
Yeah, I heard you the first time; I got it.

Satan
No Mister Hardy, I don’t believe you do. This particular brandy is from Bonaparte’s wine cellar. He was one of my clients. Perhaps you would like to meet him?

Me
I was shocked at Lucifer’s question. “What do you mean? I’m about two centuries too late, am I not?”

Satan
“Frankly you surprise me Mister Hardy, I know it’s a bit late, but I thought you had more wit than that.” Mister Scratch poured himself another glass of brandy. “By your own admission, you said your beliefs are steeped in Judeo-Christian principles. Well, I am here tonight to challenge what you know, what you believe. You consider yourself quite the scrapper. Are you ready to know the truth?”

Me
I took a puff of the cigar, “Cohiba Robusto from Havana right?”

Satan
There is no embargo where I live Mister Hardy.

Me
“No, you are quite right Mister Scratch; I do not have your breadth of experience. I have been around for a blink of an eye. You, on the other hand, have been around for an eternity so to speak.”

Satan
“I was round when Jesus Christ had his moment of doubt and pain; made damn sure that Pilate washed his hands to seal his…”

Me
I interrupted incredulously. “You’re quoting Mick Jagger!”

Satan
The devil laughed uproariously. “Catchy isn’t it? That’s right mortal; I have silk ties older than you.”

Me
Perhaps the difference between us is that I learn from my mistakes. You…well you’ve been using the same tactics since the Garden of Eden.

Satan
There you go underscoring my point Mister Hardy; always over estimating your sadly miniscule knowledge. Would you care to compare resumes with me?

Me
Yeah, yeah; a census taker tried to test me; and I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti. I’ve cheated and read ahead to the end of the book. In Revelations, don’t you get thrown in the lake of fire?”

Satan
“Lake of fire, lake of fire”, the devil said in a whiny voice. “Between you and the cherub, you sound like a couple of parrots.” Only seconds later, the Tiny Angel appeared again.

Tiny Angel
That’s right evil fiend. When the son of man casts you in the flames, you and the fancy suit will be incinerated.

Me
I took my cigar and pointed at the devil. “Yeah Old Nick, what do you say to that?”

Satan
The prince of darkness extended his bony hand, shooting a powerful electrical charge that sent Tiny Angel reeling into the living room. He looked over at me, speaking in a low tone. “The Bible is a bunch of fairy stories written for marks like you. I wouldn’t hang my hat on a book conceived by a gang of vagabonds who followed some schizophrenic rabbi.”

Me
“Dude, go easy with that finger action. You’re going to wake up my wife with those lightning bolts. Then, heaven or hell won’t save us. I pointed over to the virtuous messenger. “That wasn’t very nice what you did to Tiny Angel.”

Satan
Mister Scratch pretended to play the violin. “Oh boohoo, since when did you ever listen to her?”

Me
I raised my voice a bit. “You now that’s bullshit. I always try to do the right thing; you know I seek the categorical imperative.” No sooner, had I finished my thought, a wobbly Tiny Angel poked her head in the den.

Tiny Angel
The pint sized seraphim straightened up and dusted off. “He’s right you know. Last year, when Phillip realized the home store undercharged him on a kitchen knife set, he took back the receipt and paid the balance.”

Me
I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I did do that. What say you to that Mister Mephisto?

Satan
Sure you did; after you deliberated on it for a day or two. Don’t tell me you weren’t tempted by profiting from someone else’s loss. You’ve thought about taking bribes before too.

Tiny Angel
I don’t believe…

Me
I motioned my arm to shoosh her. “I got this. Yes, I’ve thought about it; but never took the money. I’m sure your little minions were in the room egging me on. I just didn’t know it.” I took another swig of brandy. “The bottom line is I’ve never have taken a bribe demon; and never will. You see; I’m for sale; not to you or anybody.

Tiny Angel
The winged messenger folded her arms and nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you see devil, he isn’t for sale.” The master of Hades blew a fireball, which rolled Tiny Angel back into the living room.

Me
“Dude, what did I say about the noise?” I placed my forefinger to my closed lips. “What surprised me is the devil’s face became red with embarrassment.

Satan
“Sorry, sorry. Look, let’s not lose sight of the bigger picture.” Mister Scratch walked behind me and put his hand on my shoulder. “With you, I don’t think it’s a question of whether or not you would sell yourself, or heaven forbid your soul…”

Me
I interrupted Satan. “Don’t even think about it; I am not selling my soul.”

Satan
“Hear me out young man. Hear me out. With you, I think it’s a question of price. Why should you risk going to jail for something with minimal return? But I know you better than you know yourself.” The devil spun my chair around so that I was facing him. “I think for the right amount of money or power you would do just about anything.”

Me
“You’re quite right. I am capable of being very shrewd, vindictive and manipulative. I’ve stated in my book that I admire Machiavelli, and I used him to prove my points about planning. But I would act only in a cause that is moral or just. Ultimately, I look to your boss, you know, the heavenly father.” I puffed my cigar, blowing a smoke ring towards Lucifer. “Whether fairy story or not; I have faith in God’s grace.”

Satan
Satan put his feet up on my desk. “You think you’re smart enough to take me on? My office is decorated with the skulls of guys who had way bigger brains than yours. What do you think happened to your precious Machiavelli? Where do you think he wound up?” Mister Mephisto slammed his fist down on the desk. “He’s living in my zip code boy! If you want, I can introduce you to him too. As far as the concept of grace, that’s a pipe dream conjured up by the so-called apostles. They were men like you who were afraid of their own mortality. Let me give you a clue boychick, I have dominion over the earth. I am the best hope you to have for an afterlife. There is no Jehovah watching over the planet you fool.”

Me
Well then, that’s it. If there is no God, then it stands to reason that there is no devil.

Satan
The devil’s face became as pale as Jacob Marley’s ghost. “What?”

© Philip Hardy March 2012
mocktudor@socal.rr.com

Phillip has just published 'Singing For My Supper'

Share |

More Dreamscapes