I can’t say I recall ever winning anything noteworthy in my entire life. Until, that is, I entered a competition in the East Anglian Satanic Times; known throughout Norfolk by its acronym, ‘EAST’.
Although I wasn’t fully aware of what the first prize was, being as it had been advertised as a ‘Devilish Surprise’ and, in any case, I had been seduced by the second prize of a two-week all-inclusive break in Bognor Regis, I was actually delighted to receive my mysterious reward when it landed on my doormat.
Having eagerly sliced open the envelope, I drew out the contents and unfolded the enclosure with excited anticipation. The linen parchment was embellished with a crimson, embossed scrolling font, which spelt out the sender’s name and address. It read:
Lucifer,
The Son of Perdition,
666 Furnace View Caverns,
The Bowels of Hell,
BL ZBUB.
Immediately below the header was the hand-written details confirming my good fortune and announcing my right to select a person of my own choosing who, at any one time throughout history, had set foot through Hell’s fiery gates and into the abyss of eternal damnation; and it would be this person whom I would have the opportunity to sit down to dinner with. It all seemed innocent enough.
With so many truly evil spirits at my disposal, I guess most people might have hesitated in their choosing but, for me, it was a no-brainer. I’d already seen the Bonnie & Clyde film starring Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway, why not meet the real thing? So, without further ado, I carefully filled in my details and selection, placed the form into the envelope provided, sealed it securely, and promptly set fire to it, as per the instructions. One week later, and there I was, sitting at a Parisian-style dining table straightening my starched collar with a short, sharp tug, and brushing the folds out of my napkin as it unfurled on my lap.
Suddenly, through a cloud of grey mist, appeared Bonnie Parker dressed in a sleek, black, three-quarter length skirt, a lace blouse of the same colour, and sporting a beret. She seemed to have a slight limp as she approached the table, and the hand she placed strategically on her thigh suggested she was conscious of the injury. I instinctively placed my napkin on the table, got to my feet and drew out her chair in a gentlemanly fashion. Bonnie paused for a moment before sitting down, and then smiling as I returned to my seat.
“Wow!” I gasped, “That was some entrance; you appearing through a magical mist like that. It was a bit like ‘Stars in their eyes’. Tonight, Matthew, I’m going to be... I don’t know... Freddie Mercury. Oh, he’s not down here, is he? I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot by offending anyone.”
My host looked a little confused. “Freddie Mercury...” she mused in a charmingly soft American accent, “Nope, can’t say I’ve met anyone that goes by that name. How many people did he kill?”
“Well, none that I’m aware of.”
“Then he don’t deserve a place down here, mister; not on the west wing that’s for sure. Incidentally, that’s no magical mist you just saw either; it was cement dust. Old Nick’s got some creepy guy called Frederick West building an extension on the east wing. My papa would have made a much better job of it had he have ended up down here. He was one mighty fine Bricklayer.”
“Ok, well, I suppose that’s handy to know if I ever make it to Heaven. So, Hell is getting an extension. On the face of it, I wouldn’t say that was such a good sign. Are you expecting an influx or what?”
“I shouldn’t really be telling you this but, rumour has it, there’s going to be another banking scandal, so the extra space is going to come in mighty useful. Ironic, isn’t it? The authorities hunted me and Clyde down for shooting Bankers and now everyone wants to hang them.”
“Yeah, though I think that might not be such a good parallel to draw.”
“What’s your name, mister?”
“It’s Tom.”
“Tom. That’s a fine name.”
“Why thank you, Bonnie; and yours sounds like an accurate description.”
The compliment appeared to make her uneasy.
“All this talking sure is making me hungry. May I suggest we order before Clyde gets his jealous hat on and comes looking for me?”
“Is that likely?” I gulped; but my reply fell on deaf ears as Bonnie seemed far too engaged with attracting the Waiter’s attention to satisfy my concern. She raised her hand in the air and clicked her fingers, at which point a small demonic character scurried up to the table and placed the menus in front of us.
If truth be told, I’m not really sure what I expected to see on said menu. Maybe a bile bruschetta or frog’s vomit soup; but no, there were things like foie gras with French toast, chateaubriand served with a selection of seasonal vegetables, and honey-roasted sea trout on a potato galette with smoked salmon scotch eggs. Ok, so at the bottom of the menu there were the obligatory devilled kidneys, which I took as being a humorous inclusion due to the pictorial representation of two kidneys speared by a trident. Other than that, it was nothing less than gastronomic perfection.
Having made our choices from both the menu and the wine list, we sat quietly and waited. Whilst I surveyed the surroundings, most of which consisted of hot coals, entrails, and the charred remains of tormented souls that someone had taken the time to fashion into a rather fetching flock wallpaper, Bonnie observed my nervous disposition with interest.
“Why me?” she asked.
“I’m not on the selection committee, but it could have something to do with you murdering people at will.”
“I meant, why did you pick me to have dinner with?”
“Oh, I see. Well, I suppose I was intrigued as to why a beautiful, intelligent woman like yourself, could end up as one of America’s most wanted. I must confess, when I knew we’d be having dinner together, I did a little research. You wrote poems, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I wrote poems. What of it?”
“I found the one you wrote about Suicide Sal most intriguing. Did you ever worry about that happening? Y’know, if you had have been caught and Clyde had have managed to escape. Maybe he’d have found himself another lover.”
In a breath, Bonnie reached beneath the hem of her skirt and produced a derringer pistol, which she pointed at my forehead. She cocked the hammer and grinned.
“Clyde would never have done that to me, never!”
There are times when one doesn’t like to say anything for fear of saying the wrong thing. This was one of those times. She pulled the trigger of what turned out to be a cigarette lighter and a small flame lit up the end of the barrel.
“A gun wouldn’t be much use down here,” she continued, “Old Nick lets me keep it to light my Lucky Strikes with. Not that there’s a shortage of flames.”
Thankfully, the silence was broken by the returning ogre with two glasses, a bottle of red wine and our starters, all laid out on a silver salver.
“So what is it you want to know?” she smiled, whilst pushing and prodding at her steak tartare.
“Well, I did wonder about your limp. What happened?”
“Is it that noticeable?”
“It is a bit.”
“We were driving over a bridge in Texas. It was under construction. The next thing was the car over-turned and I was trapped underneath. Then it caught fire, so they had to drag me out from under it. Huh, maybe if I’d have had a Doc to check it over he might have been able to do something with it but, hey, that wasn’t going to happen, was it?”
“I also couldn’t help but notice that you have fingers on your right hand. I read that they’d be shot off in the ambush?”
Bonnie held her right hand up as though to check their existence and giggled. “Nope,” she said, “they’re all there. The thing is; you bring into hell the things you had when you were alive; the limp being one of them. Whereas the fingers were shot off after I was dead.”
Bonnie glanced at my plate. “You’re not touching your starter,” she smiled.
Suddenly, the prosciutto-wrapped asparagus seemed to lose its appeal.
“Nor you, yours,” I replied as I glanced over at her untouched steak tartare.
“That’s because this damn burger hasn’t been cooked properly.”
I called the demonic Waiter over. “Could we have the entrées, please?”
While he took the starters away, I raised my wine glass to her and she reciprocated.
“Do you mind if I ask you a question, Tom?”
“Fire away... not literally, of course.”
“You said you’d researched me. So who was it that squealed on us? It had to be a set up.”
“Someone called, Ivan Methin or Methvin; something like that.”
“Henry’s father,” she whispered, “I might have guessed. I wonder what happened to Henry.”
“From what I remember reading, he was arrested in Oklahoma and served twelve years for murder. After his release, he was run over by a train.”
“Shoot! A train, huh? Wait ‘til I tell Clyde. I bet he’ll never believe me.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t already know. I expect he’ll be down here somewhere.”
“It’s one Hell of a big place.”
The ogre arrived with our main courses and I took the opportunity to top up our wine glasses.
“I see you went for the fish,” I noted, as the sea trout arrived.
She didn’t respond as I carved into my chateaubriand and raised a juicy cut to my mouth.
“Unlike you,” she eventually replied, “I wasn’t prepared to take a chance with the steak. Knowing Old Nick, it could turn out to be one of your relatives. He does seem to have a wicked sense of humour, that’s for sure.”
I lowered the meat back to my plate and pushed it to one side.
“You know what,” I remarked, “maybe I don’t feel as hungry as I first thought.”
I could sense her amusement as I sat there whilst she devoured her selection.
“This sure beats the rice and lentils we usually get down here.”
By the time our plates had been removed, we should have been on our last two glasses of wine, yet a quick check of the bottle revealed it to be full. Bonnie dabbed her lips with the napkin and stared across the table at me.
“You’re disappointed, aren’t you?” she asked.
“No, of course, not.”
“Yes, you are. I can see it in your eyes. What was it you wanted out of this evening; some kind of personal insight you could take back to the mortal world with you?”
“Hardly; who would believe me if I did unlock one of your untold secrets?”
“Then what? Honestly.”
“Honestly? I guess I wanted to know if someone like you could be attracted to someone like me.”
She hid her amusement behind the wine glass as she sipped.
“See, I knew you’d laugh.”
“I’m not laughing, honestly.”
The ogre arrived with two Knickerbocker Glories, placed them in front of us and then scurried off.
“Then what’s your answer?”
“No; my answer is no.”
“No, you couldn’t be attracted to me?”
“As a young woman, I was too easily bored. Hell, I got married two weeks before my 16th birthday. No offence, but you seem to me like a nice guy, and nice guys don’t do it for me. I need excitement in my life. That’s why I told Clyde that you and I were having an affair... just for the Hell of it.”
“What?!” I screamed, “You told Clyde Barrow I was knocking off his missus!” I sprang to my feet in sheer panic. “Holy crap, he’ll tear me limb from limb. What the Hell were you thinking?!”
“Sit down,” she giggled, “Of course I didn’t! I’m just proving a point. I needed someone to protect me; not someone to wet their pants when the law came looking for me.”
As calmly as I possibly could, I returned to my seat.
“Come on,” she continued, “eat your ice cream... before it gets cold.”
She found it increasingly difficult to contain her laughter.
“Ok, ok. You win. Maybe I should have chosen someone less demanding... like Hitler.”
“Ah, now there is a name I am familiar with. He came here after me, if I’m not mistaken. He’s a geeky looking guy with a little square moustache and a silly walk.”
“If only that’s all that history had to say about him. Look, I’d better be making tracks, it’s getting late.”
I glanced at my watch, or rather where my watch should have been, and then beneath the table, thinking it had somehow fallen off.
“That’s strange,” I said, “I seem to have...”
At that point, I raised my head up above the table top and Bonnie Parker was no longer to be seen; neither was anything else I expected to see. I was just sitting alone in my kitchen with a half-eaten egg sandwich and a cup of cold tea in front of me.
I doubt anyone will ever believe what I have written and, quite frankly, who could blame them? The fact that I also did a search on the East Anglian Satanic Times and found nothing whatsoever makes it difficult even for me to believe. But it did, and that’s that. Why else would I vow never to enter a competition again?
THE END
Although I wasn’t fully aware of what the first prize was, being as it had been advertised as a ‘Devilish Surprise’ and, in any case, I had been seduced by the second prize of a two-week all-inclusive break in Bognor Regis, I was actually delighted to receive my mysterious reward when it landed on my doormat.
Having eagerly sliced open the envelope, I drew out the contents and unfolded the enclosure with excited anticipation. The linen parchment was embellished with a crimson, embossed scrolling font, which spelt out the sender’s name and address. It read:
Lucifer,
The Son of Perdition,
666 Furnace View Caverns,
The Bowels of Hell,
BL ZBUB.
Immediately below the header was the hand-written details confirming my good fortune and announcing my right to select a person of my own choosing who, at any one time throughout history, had set foot through Hell’s fiery gates and into the abyss of eternal damnation; and it would be this person whom I would have the opportunity to sit down to dinner with. It all seemed innocent enough.
With so many truly evil spirits at my disposal, I guess most people might have hesitated in their choosing but, for me, it was a no-brainer. I’d already seen the Bonnie & Clyde film starring Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway, why not meet the real thing? So, without further ado, I carefully filled in my details and selection, placed the form into the envelope provided, sealed it securely, and promptly set fire to it, as per the instructions. One week later, and there I was, sitting at a Parisian-style dining table straightening my starched collar with a short, sharp tug, and brushing the folds out of my napkin as it unfurled on my lap.
Suddenly, through a cloud of grey mist, appeared Bonnie Parker dressed in a sleek, black, three-quarter length skirt, a lace blouse of the same colour, and sporting a beret. She seemed to have a slight limp as she approached the table, and the hand she placed strategically on her thigh suggested she was conscious of the injury. I instinctively placed my napkin on the table, got to my feet and drew out her chair in a gentlemanly fashion. Bonnie paused for a moment before sitting down, and then smiling as I returned to my seat.
“Wow!” I gasped, “That was some entrance; you appearing through a magical mist like that. It was a bit like ‘Stars in their eyes’. Tonight, Matthew, I’m going to be... I don’t know... Freddie Mercury. Oh, he’s not down here, is he? I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot by offending anyone.”
My host looked a little confused. “Freddie Mercury...” she mused in a charmingly soft American accent, “Nope, can’t say I’ve met anyone that goes by that name. How many people did he kill?”
“Well, none that I’m aware of.”
“Then he don’t deserve a place down here, mister; not on the west wing that’s for sure. Incidentally, that’s no magical mist you just saw either; it was cement dust. Old Nick’s got some creepy guy called Frederick West building an extension on the east wing. My papa would have made a much better job of it had he have ended up down here. He was one mighty fine Bricklayer.”
“Ok, well, I suppose that’s handy to know if I ever make it to Heaven. So, Hell is getting an extension. On the face of it, I wouldn’t say that was such a good sign. Are you expecting an influx or what?”
“I shouldn’t really be telling you this but, rumour has it, there’s going to be another banking scandal, so the extra space is going to come in mighty useful. Ironic, isn’t it? The authorities hunted me and Clyde down for shooting Bankers and now everyone wants to hang them.”
“Yeah, though I think that might not be such a good parallel to draw.”
“What’s your name, mister?”
“It’s Tom.”
“Tom. That’s a fine name.”
“Why thank you, Bonnie; and yours sounds like an accurate description.”
The compliment appeared to make her uneasy.
“All this talking sure is making me hungry. May I suggest we order before Clyde gets his jealous hat on and comes looking for me?”
“Is that likely?” I gulped; but my reply fell on deaf ears as Bonnie seemed far too engaged with attracting the Waiter’s attention to satisfy my concern. She raised her hand in the air and clicked her fingers, at which point a small demonic character scurried up to the table and placed the menus in front of us.
If truth be told, I’m not really sure what I expected to see on said menu. Maybe a bile bruschetta or frog’s vomit soup; but no, there were things like foie gras with French toast, chateaubriand served with a selection of seasonal vegetables, and honey-roasted sea trout on a potato galette with smoked salmon scotch eggs. Ok, so at the bottom of the menu there were the obligatory devilled kidneys, which I took as being a humorous inclusion due to the pictorial representation of two kidneys speared by a trident. Other than that, it was nothing less than gastronomic perfection.
Having made our choices from both the menu and the wine list, we sat quietly and waited. Whilst I surveyed the surroundings, most of which consisted of hot coals, entrails, and the charred remains of tormented souls that someone had taken the time to fashion into a rather fetching flock wallpaper, Bonnie observed my nervous disposition with interest.
“Why me?” she asked.
“I’m not on the selection committee, but it could have something to do with you murdering people at will.”
“I meant, why did you pick me to have dinner with?”
“Oh, I see. Well, I suppose I was intrigued as to why a beautiful, intelligent woman like yourself, could end up as one of America’s most wanted. I must confess, when I knew we’d be having dinner together, I did a little research. You wrote poems, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I wrote poems. What of it?”
“I found the one you wrote about Suicide Sal most intriguing. Did you ever worry about that happening? Y’know, if you had have been caught and Clyde had have managed to escape. Maybe he’d have found himself another lover.”
In a breath, Bonnie reached beneath the hem of her skirt and produced a derringer pistol, which she pointed at my forehead. She cocked the hammer and grinned.
“Clyde would never have done that to me, never!”
There are times when one doesn’t like to say anything for fear of saying the wrong thing. This was one of those times. She pulled the trigger of what turned out to be a cigarette lighter and a small flame lit up the end of the barrel.
“A gun wouldn’t be much use down here,” she continued, “Old Nick lets me keep it to light my Lucky Strikes with. Not that there’s a shortage of flames.”
Thankfully, the silence was broken by the returning ogre with two glasses, a bottle of red wine and our starters, all laid out on a silver salver.
“So what is it you want to know?” she smiled, whilst pushing and prodding at her steak tartare.
“Well, I did wonder about your limp. What happened?”
“Is it that noticeable?”
“It is a bit.”
“We were driving over a bridge in Texas. It was under construction. The next thing was the car over-turned and I was trapped underneath. Then it caught fire, so they had to drag me out from under it. Huh, maybe if I’d have had a Doc to check it over he might have been able to do something with it but, hey, that wasn’t going to happen, was it?”
“I also couldn’t help but notice that you have fingers on your right hand. I read that they’d be shot off in the ambush?”
Bonnie held her right hand up as though to check their existence and giggled. “Nope,” she said, “they’re all there. The thing is; you bring into hell the things you had when you were alive; the limp being one of them. Whereas the fingers were shot off after I was dead.”
Bonnie glanced at my plate. “You’re not touching your starter,” she smiled.
Suddenly, the prosciutto-wrapped asparagus seemed to lose its appeal.
“Nor you, yours,” I replied as I glanced over at her untouched steak tartare.
“That’s because this damn burger hasn’t been cooked properly.”
I called the demonic Waiter over. “Could we have the entrées, please?”
While he took the starters away, I raised my wine glass to her and she reciprocated.
“Do you mind if I ask you a question, Tom?”
“Fire away... not literally, of course.”
“You said you’d researched me. So who was it that squealed on us? It had to be a set up.”
“Someone called, Ivan Methin or Methvin; something like that.”
“Henry’s father,” she whispered, “I might have guessed. I wonder what happened to Henry.”
“From what I remember reading, he was arrested in Oklahoma and served twelve years for murder. After his release, he was run over by a train.”
“Shoot! A train, huh? Wait ‘til I tell Clyde. I bet he’ll never believe me.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t already know. I expect he’ll be down here somewhere.”
“It’s one Hell of a big place.”
The ogre arrived with our main courses and I took the opportunity to top up our wine glasses.
“I see you went for the fish,” I noted, as the sea trout arrived.
She didn’t respond as I carved into my chateaubriand and raised a juicy cut to my mouth.
“Unlike you,” she eventually replied, “I wasn’t prepared to take a chance with the steak. Knowing Old Nick, it could turn out to be one of your relatives. He does seem to have a wicked sense of humour, that’s for sure.”
I lowered the meat back to my plate and pushed it to one side.
“You know what,” I remarked, “maybe I don’t feel as hungry as I first thought.”
I could sense her amusement as I sat there whilst she devoured her selection.
“This sure beats the rice and lentils we usually get down here.”
By the time our plates had been removed, we should have been on our last two glasses of wine, yet a quick check of the bottle revealed it to be full. Bonnie dabbed her lips with the napkin and stared across the table at me.
“You’re disappointed, aren’t you?” she asked.
“No, of course, not.”
“Yes, you are. I can see it in your eyes. What was it you wanted out of this evening; some kind of personal insight you could take back to the mortal world with you?”
“Hardly; who would believe me if I did unlock one of your untold secrets?”
“Then what? Honestly.”
“Honestly? I guess I wanted to know if someone like you could be attracted to someone like me.”
She hid her amusement behind the wine glass as she sipped.
“See, I knew you’d laugh.”
“I’m not laughing, honestly.”
The ogre arrived with two Knickerbocker Glories, placed them in front of us and then scurried off.
“Then what’s your answer?”
“No; my answer is no.”
“No, you couldn’t be attracted to me?”
“As a young woman, I was too easily bored. Hell, I got married two weeks before my 16th birthday. No offence, but you seem to me like a nice guy, and nice guys don’t do it for me. I need excitement in my life. That’s why I told Clyde that you and I were having an affair... just for the Hell of it.”
“What?!” I screamed, “You told Clyde Barrow I was knocking off his missus!” I sprang to my feet in sheer panic. “Holy crap, he’ll tear me limb from limb. What the Hell were you thinking?!”
“Sit down,” she giggled, “Of course I didn’t! I’m just proving a point. I needed someone to protect me; not someone to wet their pants when the law came looking for me.”
As calmly as I possibly could, I returned to my seat.
“Come on,” she continued, “eat your ice cream... before it gets cold.”
She found it increasingly difficult to contain her laughter.
“Ok, ok. You win. Maybe I should have chosen someone less demanding... like Hitler.”
“Ah, now there is a name I am familiar with. He came here after me, if I’m not mistaken. He’s a geeky looking guy with a little square moustache and a silly walk.”
“If only that’s all that history had to say about him. Look, I’d better be making tracks, it’s getting late.”
I glanced at my watch, or rather where my watch should have been, and then beneath the table, thinking it had somehow fallen off.
“That’s strange,” I said, “I seem to have...”
At that point, I raised my head up above the table top and Bonnie Parker was no longer to be seen; neither was anything else I expected to see. I was just sitting alone in my kitchen with a half-eaten egg sandwich and a cup of cold tea in front of me.
I doubt anyone will ever believe what I have written and, quite frankly, who could blame them? The fact that I also did a search on the East Anglian Satanic Times and found nothing whatsoever makes it difficult even for me to believe. But it did, and that’s that. Why else would I vow never to enter a competition again?
THE END
