Henry and George were spending a friendly
evening together, talking pleasantly over their
wine glasses--about a very unpleasant subject!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
January 1954
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The two men sat across from each other in soft leather chairs. Flames
from the fireplace before them licked upward and shadows danced on
walls and ceiling. The corners were in complete darkness.
"I say, George, this wine is exceedingly good," one of the men poured
rich red liquid from a large decanter into his goblet.
"Yes, Henry, it's quite good. Much better than brandy," answered
George, swallowing hard and rolling his head.
"Yes, yes," said Henry, sighing deeply, his lips and chin stained from
the beverage. "Yes. Yes. Nothing like good wine. Nothing like it."
"As I was saying," smiled George.
"Oh yes," Henry nodded, setting his goblet on the table and leaning
forward in his seat. "Do continue with your story. You were telling me
about how you met the Devil last week, and had an interesting chat with
him." He winked mischievously.
George shook his head vigorously. "And I most certainly did. Yes. Met
the Devil and had an enjoyable chat. He's a splendid chap, you know.
Not at all like those pictures you see of him. No horns or red monkey
outfit. He dresses most conservatively; wears a black suit. And he has
nice gray hair." George patted his head. "Nice gray hair."
Henry poured himself another cup of wine and sipped it slowly. "But
what did you talk about? I mean you have nothing in common at all."
"Oh no?" George shrugged. "But we do. We have much in common. I admire
the Devil and told him so. And he said that he would be glad to have me
come and work for him."
"Work for him?"
"Yes. He wants me to go with him to his headquarters."
"But his headquarters are in ... a ... well you know."
"I know, but I still want to go. He said he would make me a demon or a
ghoul or something."
"Horrid, don't you think?"
"No, not at all." George gulped down the last of his wine. "Quite
pleasant if I may say so. Quite a change from the market and
speculation and," he snorted loudly, "those damn commodities that I
lost so heavily on yesterday. No, I think I'd enjoy seeing things as a
demon or a ghoul or something."
"What do you see?"
"Oh you know. Graveyards, coffins and corpses...."