To his disappointment, Davey awoke the following day. He was never too thrilled to start a new day.
Davey dreamed future, but each new day was the present, and the present quickly turns into the past. Davey’s grand visions of the future would inevitably become thoughts of the past.
45, and barely alive, Davey always felt he was destined for greater, though he never made any effort to achieve this greatness. He wanted to be a great actor, but refused to audition. He wanted to be a great musician, but refused to learn to play an instrument. He wanted to be a great writer, but refused to read any literature. He just wanted to be great but refused to better himself in any way that would bring him closer to his goal.
A lonely and lazy security guard, Davey sat behind surveillance monitors looking at internet videos all night. He left occasional comments on videos trying to insight the most anger from other viewers. Every night he looked forward to his lunch break, where he would sit in the same seat, in the same position, and continue to watch the same internet videos.
On his weekends, Davey watched pornography.
But, as luck wouldn’t have had it, one night, while Davey wasn’t hard at work, he found his future in an internet documentary on the grass roots of the blues movement. It was in this video that Davey learned about Robert Johnson, a man who was rumored to have sold his soul for great fame. Davey didn’t bother to hear the rest of the story, he opened a new internet tab and bought himself a ticket to Mississippi for the following day.
Davey knew he would lose his job and his apartment if he were to leave, but he didn’t care. For the first time ever, he had a plan for his future: to meet the Devil at those infamous crossroads and sell his soul for fame and fortune.
However, when he arrived at the crossroads, the scene was different than expected. The roads were now paved and surrounded by businesses capitalizing on the legend of Robert Johnson. Davey was undeterred and elected to stay and wait at that traffic light lit intersection until the Devil would meet with him.
His first trial came with the Mississippi heat. Why he ever decided July was a good time to visit Mississippi was beyond him. He thought when the sun went down, he would have some relief, but the night was just as hot and humid as the day and now he was being tormented by mosquitoes.
His second trial came the second day. There was a homeless man who wasn’t too keen on another panhandler moving in on his turf. You see, that there intersection was his, being prime realestate smack dab in the middle of that tiny town. Davey assured the man he was not there to beg for money which the local panhandler took as an insult. Was Davey too good to be begging for money?
His third trial was the local deputies, who, seeing Davey was not asking for money, figured he was selling drugs. Davey explained his plans which just made it seem more like he was there to buy drugs. He was arrested on his third night there and subsequently released when the deputies couldn’t figure out what to charge him with.
Davey returned to his post and waited for the Devil. His days and nights where filled with harassment from the local panhandler, deputies, and mosquitoes. He remained vigilant. He worked harder than ever to not do anything. He knew he would soon meet the Devil.
He would periodically be arrested on bogus loitering charges. He was constantly badgered by that homeless man to leave. Local store owners nearby stopped selling him food and letting him use the their restrooms. It seems the only ones who wanted him there were those infernal mosquitoes.
It wasn’t until his hottest night yet, when Davey sat patiently waiting for the street light to turn green so he could better see the mosquitoes and swat them, that he was finally approached by someone other than the cops or ol’ homeless.
Davey was sitting still, hand over arm waiting for the green light, when the intersection began to flash red.. red… red.
Knowing this intersection was virtually non-traversed at this time in the morning, Davey began to look around to see what was causing the traffic lights to flash red… red… red.
There came from the south, walking up the middle of Descoto Avenue, a black silhouette of a man only visible when the lights flashed red.
The man neared Davey as a nearby streetlamp illuminated for the first time since Davey had been there. As the man entered the light, Davey could see he was well dressed but also well travelled. The stranger’s attire was what one might imagine a hands on 1920s oil baron would wear. A man who had a meeting with investors at three but had to fix an oil rig at noon. A man who owned endless acres of land, but preferred to patrol them himself.
“Sir,” the stranger greeted Davey with a stern southern accent, “I am going to have to ask you to leave.”
Disappointed Davey replied, “I am not leaving this spot. The cops have already tried and each time I explain I have every right to be here.”
The Stranger, now with his hands on his hips holding his coat back, “I ain’t associated with that lawful outfit, son. I am asking you to leave because you are driving down the business in this area.”
Davey climbing to his feet, “I’m driving down the business?? Why hasn’t anyone ever told that bum to leave?”
That Homeless man yells back from his corner of the intersection, “You leave me out of this!”
The Stranger, “Because, that there fella ain’t trying to sell his soul to Satan.”
Davey, “And what does that have to do with you?”
The Stranger, “It has a lot to do with me.”
Davey, “And why is that?”
The Stranger, “Because, we can’t just have every person who feels they are entitled to an audience with Satan come here and demand a meeting.”
Davey started to become frustrated, “This whole town is a tourist trap built around the legend of Robert Johnson and his deal with the Devil. Why would you try to get rid of me??”
The Stranger, “That’s because Satan doesn’t want your soul. Satan says your soul is worthless.”
Davey, “Don’t pretend to know me. Don’t pretend you know me and just assume I am some pathetic sap out here at the end of my rope with no where else to turn.”
The Stranger, with his hands back on his belt buckle, “Sir, I don’t pretend to know anything. Satan himself told me you’re a ‘pathetic sap’ and that he wants no part of your dealings. Now I’m going to ask you again (sweet ass pause) to leave. Satan has other clients he’s been wanting to meet but you’re taking up this here waiting room, as it were.”
Davey rolls his eyes and scratches his mosquito bites, “Oh, I get it. You’re patronizing me. Look, I’m not buying it and you can just go ahead and fuck off.”
Stranger, “Son, you are a special kind of ignorant. Your stubbornness is changing the course of the history right now. There are great leaders and musicians and celebrities and all sorts of folk waiting for this intersection that you’re refusing to leave.”
Davey, “I don’t know if you think I am stupid enough to believe you but I am not leaving this spot. I told you that I’m not buying your bullshit.”
Stranger, “Many people have called me many things, but it seems to me that you are calling me a liar. And I certainly do not like being called a liar.”
Davey, turns back to the stranger and throws his hands up, “You’re right, I am calling you a liar. You. Are. a liar. Now leave me alone.”
The light around the stranger distorted and his voice grimmed, “I am the Herald of Hell. I forego the dealings of demons and men. I author the constitutions of chaos. I bring the wrath of Hell before Satan and I lay the fiery carpet upon which he tramples. I have sponsored babes to dictators and laid waste to the names of benevolent kings. Satan’s whims are my calls to arms.”
Davey interrupts, huffing exaggerating, “Oh come on already! I appreciate the magic show but I still ain’t buying it. Now you can go ahead and think I’m crazy but I ain’t leaving here until I sell my soul to the Devil.”
Stranger, with knife hands pointed at Davey, “Satan was right, you are a piece of shit.”
Davey, putting his hands out to his side below his waist, “Then let the Devil tell me himself.”
Just then, night turned to day in an instant. The buildings were gone, the street lights were gone, and the pavement was gone. In their place was trees, old fence post, and a dirt road intersection. In fact, besides Davey and the Stranger, the only thing that remained unchanged was the homeless man who still sat caddy-corner from Davey.
The homeless man yelled out, “Now you’ve done it!”
Davey looked at the Stranger, “What is it? What did you do?”
The Stranger replied, “You called upon Satan, Satan is here to answer.”
The stranger then pointed behind Davey who slowly turned around. Behind Davey stood a little girl who appeared to be no more than eight years old. She had straight brown hair past her shoulders and she was dressed in her Sunday best light blue dress.
Davey looked at the little girl, “Who are you?”
Girl, “I’m a really pissed off Devil.”
Davey, shifted his eyes back and forth and considered the circumstances, “I think I’m willing to believe that.”
The Little Devil Girl looked at the Stranger, “Did you already tell him I don’t want his soul.”
The Stanger nodded, the Little Devil Girl looked back at Davey, looked him up and down, and said, “Then what the fuck am I doing here?”
The Stranger, peering at the back of Davey’s head, “He said he wasn’t going to leave until he met you. I done told him you didn’t want his soul but he said he wanted to hear it from you.”
The Little Devil Girl stepped closer to Davey, looked up at him, and said, “Well, here y’go: I’m here, and I don’t want your soul.”
Davey tried his best to make it seem like he was not talking to a child, “No, you’re The Devil,” he said shaking his finger at her in disbelief, “you’re supposed to buy my soul.”
The Little Devil Girl, “I don’t buy things I don’t want.”
Davey looked back and forth between the Stranger and the Little Devil Girl, “Now wait a second, you chose to bring me here; you could’ve just as easily sent me back home or somewhere far away from you. No, you brought me all the way here, where ever it is, because you really do want to buy my soul and right now you’re just testing me.”
The Little Devil Girl, “No, we didn’t bring you anywhere. These are the same crossroads. You’re still in Mississippi. This is just how I prefer it to look when I conduct business. And no, we couldn’t just send you back home or somewhere far from here. That would have to be done against your will, and we are not in the business of violating peoples freewill.”
Stranger, “This ain’t the church son.”
The Little Devil Girl, “And I promise you, this is not a test. Like I said, I can’t make you leave here against your will. I’ve only shown myself to you to prove the point that I don’t want your soul. I was led to believe you would be leaving once you heard it from me.”
Davey was becoming more distraught, “But you are The Devil? Aren’t you… don’t you need my soul for hell?”
The Little Devil Girl, “You’re already coming to hell! You’re a shit person. What makes you think I would ever want to pay for a soul that I already got coming to me?”
Davey, “How can I be going to hell? I haven’t done anything wrong.”
The Stranger reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a little black flip book, licked his fingers, and began to read,
-“Always taking the last cookie and never sharing with you’re siblings.”
-“Blaming a house fire on the neighbor kid.”
-“Stealing money from every job you’ve ever had.”
-“Impressive levels of lethargy and sloth.”
-“Buying and shorting prostitutes.”
-“Gluttony.”
-“Filed a fake police report to have your ederly neighbor evicted because you couldn’t stand her dog barking.”
-“Spending too much money on car insurance.”
The Devil interrupted, “These are just the highlights. When was the last time you called your mother?”
Davey, “My mother died five years ago.”
The Devil, “That’s not what I asked. And why didn’t you go to her funeral?”
Davey, “I was busy. I had to work.”
The Stranger, “You got high on cocaine and masturbated for three days straight.”
Davey showed his frustration, “Know what, Fuck This! You said you cant make me leave against my will and I’m not leaving until you give me what I want.”
The Little Devil Girl, “You don’t even know what you want. All you know, deep down inside, is that you are a piece of shit and that you are too lazy to do anything to fix it.”
Davey, “Too lazy?? I have been out here battling the elements to get a chance to talk to you. I am literally threatening to wait this out until you give me what I want. He said it himself, you can’t buy anymore souls here until I’m gone, and I’m not going anywhere until you give me what I want.”
The Little Devil Girl raised her voice just enough to make the point clear, “And what do you want? What do you think I can give you that would possibly change who you are?”
Davey’s nasal exhale was audible, “To be rich or famous or both. I don’t know, I just want money and a comfortable life. I want to be happy and rich.”
The Devil, “Those things are exclusive. You don’t get money and happiness. You don’t get fame and comfort. You don’t get… You don’t get to demand things from me when you don’t even know what it is that you want.”
Davey threw his arms up, “Fine! I want to be successful! A successful person doesn’t need to be rich or famous or overly happy. I can just be a successful person who is content.”
The Devil, “It’d be easier to make you the president than to make you successful and content.”
Davey, “Then make me the pre…”
The Devil, “I am not making you the president. I don’t want my name associated with that.”
Davey, “Then make me successful.”
The Devil, “Fine, I can make you the worlds most successful (and content) gay pornstar.”
Davey, “No, I don’t want that, I don’t want to be a gay pornstar. I ain’t no fag.”
The Devil, “First of all: I could’ve made you enjoy being a gay pornstar (sucking dick) more than anything in the world. Second, who says I wasn’t going to make you a lesbian pornstar?”
Davey, “Well, in that case..”
The Devil, “No. Too late. You’re a homophobic piece of shit and I don’t want to do business with you.”
Davey, “No, that could work, I could be a famous lesbian.”
The Devil, “Can it, ‘Ellen’, the deal’s off. And you can stay here as long as you want, I don’t care anymore. I can always move my soul buying business somewhere else. Just because this is my favorite place to do my business doesn’t mean that I can’t find another spot.”
Davey, “Fuck! I mean what – the – fuck – am I supposed to do?? This was my last chance at a decent life.”
The Stranger ask, “Have you ever considered accepting Jesus Christ as your Lord and Saviour.”
“You leave me out of this!” shouted the homeless man from across the street.
The Stranger, “Sorry Jesse, just trying to give this guy all his options.”
Homeless Jesus, “That ain’t one of them!”
Davey began to weep as he paced back and forth. He plopped to the ground with his legs crossed as he started to pull at his hair.
The Devil, “Are we done here? I am late for a party. I don’t even have time to change.”
Davey sniffed the sobbing snot back into his nose, “Yeah, we’re done. I’m done. This was short lived and a waste of my time. I’ll leave you to your business now.”
The Devil, “Good, and if it makes any difference, I’ll have my herald make sure you still have a job when you get back. On the condition, you leave us the fuck alone.”
Davey, “No, don’t worry about it. You’re right, I’m a piece of shit, and if I can’t even sell my soul to The Devil, then whats the point of living. I might as well kill myself.”
The Devil, “That also works and makes sense. Whatever gets you out of here.”
The Stranger leaned over and whispered into The Devil’s ear.
The Devil quickly continued, “But ask yourself why would you give up so easily.”
Davey, “What do you mean? Even you said I’m a piece of shit. You made it pretty obvious that I’m going to Hell anyways. What’s the point of going back? I’m worthless.”
The Devil, “Exactly! Your soul is worthless. But what if you were to make it worth something…”
Davey, “What do you mean?”
The Devil, “I mean I might be interested in buying your soul if it were worth something.”
Davey, started to reel back the tears, “You mean I could actually make something of myself?”
The Devil, “Absolutely! But remember, your self worth is only worth your self. You don’t need to be successful for me to want to buy your soul, you just need to have a soul worth buying. Why don’t you go home and just work on becoming a better person and come see me when you learn to appreciate yourself enough that even you would want to buy your soul.”
Davey sprung to his feet and dusted his pants off, “Okay. Okay, yeah. I’ll do it. I’m going to go home and work on becoming a better person. Thank you, thank you so much.”
With a snap of The Devil’s finger, Davey was flashed home and there remained at those crossroads The Devil, The Stranger, and Homeless Jesus.
Homeless Jesus, “You didn’t actually mean any of that shit did you?”
The Devil, “Hell no! I just wanted to keep that loser out of Hell as long as possible.”
The Stranger, “I almost lost it when you said that shit about self worth only being worth self…”
The Devil, “Fuck you, it worked, didn’t it.”
The Stranger, “You sure you don’t have time to change before the party?”
The Devil, “Of course I do, I’m the Devil. But fuck it, I’ll go as the girl.”
But what our heroes didn’t expect, is that they had in fact become heroes. Davey did go home and Davey did work on becoming a better person.
Following the advice of The Devil, Davey began attending self help courses. He began to show initiative at work which led to him being promoted. His promotion allowed him to set his own schedule which allowed him time to take guitar lessons. He befriended and eventually fell in love with his guitar teacher… a man. A young man named Gastun Vireli. That’s right, homophobic Davey turned out to be homo himself.
This self realization led him to write his own book, “Thank The Devil I’m Gay!” which soared to a New York Times number one seller.
Thanks to his book’s success, Davey had the means to attend college where he studied everything from business to Ancient Sumarian Flute. Davey continued to write books and even screenplays.
He travelled the world using his wealth to donate to those who were less fortunate. He used his own money to build schools and hostels in under developed places.
And so it was, that one day he found himself back at those crossroads. Whether it was fate or coincidence, Davey, the writer, the lover, the philathropist, had found himself standing there before The Devil, who now took the form of an old man. There The Devil held out a contract and pen, to which Davey politely declined.
And as Davey left those crossroads for the last time, he placed a wad of cash in the homeless man’s cup who said to him, “You’re still a piece of shit.”