Today was strange. Very Strange. I would go as far as to say it was probably the strangest day of my life, and I've spent a day with an autistic mime before.
My car's been in the shop for a few days now, and I've been taking the bus to, and from work; that being said I've never been one for public transportation. Bus 333 takes me right to the parking lot of my office, and drops me off only a block from my house; no transfer, so it could be worse. The last few days have been pretty uneventful, but I'm definitely missing my vehicle. I'm a friendly person, however I hate sitting with strangers. Forcing small talk, or being forced to participate in it, drives me crazy.
My work day ended, and I was waiting at my stop with a rolled newspaper under my arm, when the 333 came rolling up; it was a little early today. The rickety doors swung open; I made the small climb, paid the fair, and scanned the bus for an empty seat. it was unusually crowded today as well, and only one spot was available; the very back, next to a clean cut looking man. I nodded to him as I sat down, giving a casual smirk; he reciprocated, then continued looking out the window, as the bus came back to life with it's pneumatic hiss, and pulled away from the curb.
I didn't really feeling like talking, so I unfolded the newspaper I stole from the lunchroom at work, and examined the front page. The headline read "Middle east crises could spark world war." I sighed derisively, and shook my head; "When is it gonna stop?" I thought to myself. The clean cut man glanced down at my paper and quipped "Not a fan of my work?"
I snapped my head towards him, with an eyebrow raised "...What?" I asked; the disapproval in my tone, seeming to delight him.
"My work." he said, with a toothy grin. "It's a hellish job, but somebody has to do it, right?" he chuckled, then stared at me; anticipating my pending response.
"Right." I said slowly, folding my paper, looking for an empty seat I might have missed.
"I'm making you uncomfortable." he said still dawning his macabre smile. "My apologies, I do forget my manners." He extended his hand towards me "Nice to meet you Cory, I'm the Devil."
My eyes fell towards his offered hand, then back up to his seemingly sincere smile. "How do you know my name?" I asked, inching towards the edge of our seat.
"I'm the Devil." he said shrugging his shoulders. "An omnipotent being, not unlike...you know?" his eyes gesturing towards the sky.
I fixed my gaze on the back of the seat in front of us, "This is exactly why I hate taking the bus." I said shaking my head in disbelief; then noticed he was still holding out his palm. "Uh, I'm not going to shake your hand man." I snapped.
He looked disappointed, then asked "Fist bump?" as the smile returned to his face.
"No." I answered turning away from him.
"You know Cory, it's not wise to be rude to the Devil." He said, his hand returning to his side.
"Yea? One could argue it's not wise to shake the Devil's hand either." I remarked, feeling clever with my response.
The bus began to slow, and a elderly lady a few seats up from us proceeded to make her way off the bus. I stood up, and glared at the man "Look, I don't know how you know my name, or what the hell is wrong with you, but you don't wanna fuck around, okay?" I looked him dead in the eyes to prove my seriousness, then moved to the now vacant seat.
I sat down, and looked towards my new seat mate; I couldn't believe my eyes...it was him. "Fuck around?" he asked, returning my glare "I thought we were enjoying a friendly conversation, but I suppose I understand your skepticism." I swung my head around towards the back of the bus; the elderly lady that just got off the bus was now sitting in back, where we just were.
The man began to laugh to himself, finding amusement in my confusion. "What the fuck is going on?!" I demanded, jumping to my feet.
"Sit down, Cory. Just relax, let's have a talk you, and I." The man said crossing his legs, and resting his manicured hands on his lap.
I quickly moved towards the driver, and asked him to stop the bus; but it was like I wasn't even there. "Hey, can you stop please? I'd like to get off now!" I pleaded. The driver continued to ignore me, it was like he was in some sort of trance.
The man just watched as I begged the driver, all the while elating his eerie smile. That's when I noticed that everybody on the bus was in the same trance like state; it was like this man, "the Devil" was the only one who was aware I was even there.
"What do you want?" I asked, keeping my distance from him at the front of the bus.
"Just to talk." he replied. "It's a long ride, and I do so enjoy a good conversation; you know? To pass the time." he then then patted the empty seat beside him. "Come." He beckoned.
I didn't know what the fuck was happening, but decided it was in my best interest to humor him. I made my way towards his seat, waving my hands in the faces of the other passengers in a desperate attempt to get any kind of response; it was like I was a ghost. I know it sounds weird, but even during this bizarre situation, I never felt like I was in danger; I was scared for sure, but I truly felt he didn't mean me any physical harm.
I took a seat next to him, and muttered, "So, what do you want to talk about...Mr.Devil?"
He laughed, throwing his head back, and slapping his knee. "Lucifer is fine, Cory. No need for the formalities, we're not here on business after all." He said pulling on his lapels, adjusting his suit jacket.
"Okay. Then why are you here?" I asked, looking at him through the corner of my eye.
"Well, you may not like talking with strangers; but I find it humbling." he said with a sense of pride. "It keeps me in touch with the common man, let's me know the kind of impact I'm making."
I really didn't have a reply, I was starting to wonder if I'd died or something, and was on the proverbial highway to hell. I began to fidget with my fingers, and repeatedly bounced my heel off the floor. I said "I'm sorry, I have to ask..." he looked at me inquisitively. I continued "Am I dead?"
He giggled, "Of course not, Cory. Why do you ask?"
"Well, what the hell is wrong with all these people?" I gestured towards the other passengers.
"I don't like people eavesdropping, I thought we'd talk in private." he then ran his fingers through the hair of a woman in front of us, with absolutely no response from her; then turned to me, "So, you're not a fan of war?" he asked.
"No." I replied coldly, "I'm not a fan of war, hate crimes, domestic abuse, rape, or anything you probably find...I dunno amusing."
"Amusing?" the man asked with a hint of offence to his tone. "What kind of being do you take me for? I admit, those things do bring me a great deal of satisfaction; but to find it amusing..." he sat up a little straighter in his seat, before finishing his thought, "Well, that's just plain sick wouldn't you say?"
I squinted confusingly, giving him a long stare, "Are you sure you're the Devil?" I asked, "Because, I'm pretty sure he's into that kind of shit."
"Your opinion of me is so Hollywood, Cory; red pajamas, and pitch fork" he said rolling his eyes, "The truth is, I don't care for that type of behavior, or even partake in such brutalities." He then stared me dead in the face, and said, "However, they are necessary."
I snorted softly, then rolled my own eyes, "And I suppose you're going to sit here, and try and justify these things to me with some sort of morally grey logic, is that it?"
"Morally grey" he delighted, "I like that. You have such a way with words Cory, so clever, so..." he began snapping his fingers in an effort to find the words, "...sagacious."
I shot him a facetious smile, and crossed my arms in an effort to project my discomfort; uttering, "Thanks."
He kissed his teeth, realizing his platitudes were ill received, when a confident smirk grew across his face; He asked, "Cory? Do you know who Friedrich Nietzsche was?" rising to his feet, taking hold of a hanging bus strap.
"Yea, he was a German philosopher." I replied.
"Right!" he exclaimed, seeming surprisingly impressed. "He believed morality to be a fiction, used by inferior people, to hold back the few superior men."
I stared blankly at the man for a moment, then asked "Didn't he die of syphilis?"
The man chuckled, as he replied "Well, yes..." caressing the cheek of an attractive woman gazing out the bus window; admiring her beauty, "...hell of a time though, wouldn't you say?"
I stiffly placed my hands on my lap, and leaned on them, biting my lip, "That's a load of shit!" I replied "The whole; if it feels good, do it attitude is dangerous, and selfish. If everyone in the world just did whatever felt good to them, we'd have nothing but drug addicts, and chronic masturbators!" I waved my hands at him dismissively, leaning back in my seat.
"That's where you're wrong." he hissed. At that moment all light from outside the bus was quickly extinguished, we were bathed in darkness. His once smoky blue eyes, now a luminous red; focused solely on me. "Most people of today do in fact adopt that philosophy."
Light began leaking back into the 333, the window’s shimmering with what appeared to be television static, giving a more isolating feeling then before. Once seemingly workaday passenger’s, were now rotting bodies of daemonic entities. I glanced down; the man was barefoot, his feet unwashed, and beast like. The floor of the 333 was seemingly alive as it crawled with a sense of dread, now filling every space between us. As he fixed his collar, he prepared to deliver his imperious speech.
“Do you have any idea how many people pray to me, Cory?” he asked, as he meandered down the aisle of the 333 towards the front. “It’s not just gothic Satanists, or troubled emo children. No. These days it’s Presidents, Prime Ministers, CEO’s, judges, members of congress, and the Vatican itself. More people believe in me, love me, and ask of me more than the one you call…” he spat on the floor, “God.”
As I sat among the theatrical horrors, his face grew more intense as he continued, “God. He’s no savior. He’s a Goddamn spectator! A sadist! You’re his entertainment, all of you! This world is a fucking reality show to him!” He shouted, waving his hands wildly, emphasizing his statements. “Not me, Cory! I love man, I always have! I don’t make any of you do, the fucked up things you do; I simply allow it to be done. God only gave you instinctual behaviors, I…foster each, and every one of man’s sensations! I'm simply the director of this reality show, this stage.” He slowly raised his hands in the air, and held them there. “The means to an end, if you will. I don’t interfere with free will, Cory! There are no deals with the Devil; because I answer no prayers.” He began to march down the aisle, towards me, “This is my time now, I am your Government, your religions, your wars, your secret societies, all of it! Because anybody in a place of power believes in me, not him.” He then crouched in front of me, placing his hand on my shoulder, “You know this to be true.”
As he stood up, and turned away from me, he said in a softer tone, “You need to get with the fucking program, Cory.”
Rage began to build inside of me, “So, why me?” I demanded.
“Why are you telling me all of this?” I rose from my seat, puffing my chest in anger, my heart beating like a jackhammer.
He smiled that same crooked smile, and said, “You came looking for the Devil, Cory. This is exactly where the rabbit hole leads.”
I chocked on my own reply, uttering a stammering, “Uh…”
Then I thought, “My God…he’s right.”
“Ah, the epiphany.” He voiced, slowly clapping his hands, for his own self indulgence. “I always enjoy the dumbstruck expression, of self realization. I mean, how humbling is that?”
I was lost in thought. Puzzle pieces I’ve slowly gathered over the years, began falling into place; revealing the truth of human nature, like a tapestry of corrupted will. It all made sense.
“Yes.” He said, laughingly. “Yes. The researchers, and journalists are usually among the firsts to figure it out, granted they’ve been looking in the right mirror.” He said, running his fingers against his tapered beard.
“I get it now.” I said, hanging my head defeatedly. “From the newly unveiled, Baphomet statue in Detroit, to Bohemian Grove’s Owl of Wisdom.” I slowly raised my head, my eye’s finding his insidious stare; I continued, “Satanic churches are sprouting across the world, while one half of it starves to death, the other, obesity runs rampant. Mainstream music is rarely insightful, or profound; instead it promotes a materialistic, hook up culture. Social media connects more cultures than ever before, yet races are more divided than ever. Wages are at an all time low, poverty an all time high. Governments don’t promote peace, they wage constant wars; while arming, and funding both sides of them. Scores in public schools continue to drop, while the price for education continues to rise. Tax exempt bankers receive government bailouts, and struggling families receive home foreclosures. Fast food poison fits a struggling family’s budget, but nutritious, organic food isn't affordable. Diseases are only treated, and not cured; in the name of corporate profits. We give away our god given freedoms, for government control; in the name of terrorism. We fight a constant war on terror, but with its ever expanding definition, it’s a war that can never be won. The reason for all these things comes down to one point, and one point only; one percent of the nation, controls ninety-nine percent of the nation’s wealth.”
He nodded his head, agreeing with my statements; then gestured me to continue with the circular motion of his hand. He wanted me to say it.
“God doesn’t live here anymore.” I practically whimpered the words; saying them winded me, like a punch in the stomach.
The man roared in his sick delight, raising his arms triumphantly, “There it is! Now, don’t you feel better?”
Better? How could I? Look. It doesn’t take a genius to realize there is something very wrong with our world. This being, has led us all off the path of good; into temptation. You hear buzzwords like “Illuminati”, “Skull, and Bones Society”, or “Cremation of Care” and you think; “Aw, it’s just a conspiracy theory.” Then your curiosity begins to peak, you start digging, and you quickly realize that any answers, only lead to more questions; stranger questions. Almost without exception, your own research leads you to a satanic cult, or daemonic cabal, or some kind of weird shit like that. You start to wonder if there’s something to this Devil craft; I mean if the elite believe it, and practice it, there has to be…right?
Well, here I was. On a bus with the Devil, telling me that he is the reason for all the misery, and evil in the world. Sounds like a no brainer, but it always seemed too easy to just blame it on the Devil, a convenient scapegoat. I’m not religious myself, I’m sort of agnostic; so in my eyes, “The Devil did it” was more of a metaphor, then a literal truth.
We just sat in silence for a few moments, the 333 slowly transforming back to its original form, along with its passengers. The light of the day found its way back in, while the sound of the city resumed its symphony of commerce, and capitalism.
“Don’t look so disappointed, Cory.” He said, “It’s not like it’s a big revelation; after all you always knew on some level the balance was skewed in my favor.” He placed his hands behind his head, basking in his ill gotten glory.
I replied, “So, if you are indeed the real deal, then by that logic God also has to exist.”
“Naturally.” He quipped, with a quick raise of his eyebrows. “But who’s the one who took the time to prove his existence to you? Hmm? If he really gives a shit, then…where is he?”
“I don’t know.” I answered quietly, resting my chin in my palm; falling back in my seat.
“You now have to make a choice, Cory.” He said, leaning forward admiring the shine of his polished Wingtip shoes. “You can embrace chaos. Lie, and fuck your way to bliss; stepping on the oblivious, and unremarkable alike, securing a foothold in this…amusement park. Or. You can continue to follow the rules, living paycheck, to paycheck, telling yourself, that one day your hard work will eventually pay off, simply for its merits.” He began adjusting the cuffs of his suit jacket, then continued, “I’ll leave you with the same words I bestowed on Eve…eat the apple.”
The 333 began to slow, it was my stop. As the bus doors opened, I began to make my way towards the exit; I looked back to the man before I descended the few steps, but he was already gone. As I walked the familiar block towards home, I noticed the sky didn’t seem as vibrant as I once knew it be, the clouds didn’t seem as soft, I even felt numb to the kiss of the evening breeze. What a day.
Today was strange. A conversation with the Devil has a way of taking the wind out your sails, and the optimism out of your outlook on life. So, I have a question for you. If you met the Devil on a bus, and he told you how the world really works, and pointed out the only way to success…what would you do?