HELL OF A DEAL, a supernatural satire

Chapter Three

3

"Anna," said Al into his wireless earpiece transmitter.

"Mister Smith," said the young man holding the briefcase behind Al.

"Who let you in here?" Al turned suddenly, afraid for his life.

"Your lovely assistant, Al. Do you mind if I call you Al?"

"Anna? Anna?" Al tapped the earpiece transmitter several times. "Anna?"

"I only need a minute of your time, sir." The salesman smiled patiently.

"Oh, fabulous." Al pressed the keypad and he stopped his treadmill. He turned back to face the salesman. "What are you selling, sir?"

The man's eyes gleamed from an overabundance of ambition. "It's more about what I'm giving." The man struck an open pose to imply that he was being sincere.

"Call it what you like, but make it fast." Smith gulped down his vitamin water, and he toweled off.

Al's head felt light and airy. His balance was rubbery. The salesman's intrusion unnerved him. Al's attire was inappropriate for business, and frankly he smelled a little. All these factors combined to push Al toward the brink of open hostility.

The slick intruder seemed shady, too forward, and much too sure of himself. Perhaps it was time to push the red panic button for the very first time.

"Well Al, I'm Lou, and I've got what you want most."

Al focused across the room on the salesman. "Which is?"

"Youth." Lou raised up a little bottle of clear liquid, a bottle that featured technical-looking writing across its label. His other hand fondled a tri-fold color brochure, and he smiled again.

"What are you trying to say? Youth? What does that mean?" Al took his panic-button enabled remote controller, and he stared down at the various functions.

"Medical nanotechnology, Al, guaranteed to reverse the effects of aging. No bull. Guaranteed results."

Smith digested the man's pitch. He laughed a little at first, and then more incredulously as he pondered what the stranger had said. "A Fountain of Youth? In a bottle."

"Exactly." Lou placed the tiny vial down on Al's massive desk, which was also a dark African mahogany. Lou unfolded his sales brochure, and he waited patiently for the old man to respond.

Al shook his head. "That's not possible."

"Isn't it?" The salesman's face seemed amused yet cryptic.

"I've researched this," said Al, "on the Internet for years. There's nothing like that." Smith subconsciously stepped closer to the vial, still indignant. He wanted to get a look at the words on the bottle and on the brochure.

Lou sneered gently. "Well, Al, are you a scientist? Obviously it's brand new technology. I don't get off on wasting people's time. If you want me to go, just say the word."

Al pranced closer to the salesman, to the bottle and to the brochure. He straightened his spine, and he circled to the other side of his desk.

"You got five minutes, kid." Smith flopped down in his big vibrating leather chair across from Lou.

Lou spun, and he gazed back into Al's eyes momentarily. Although he was moderately handsome, the salesman had a quirky off-center smile. His eyes were misaligned, an odd face, yet almost familiar, like someone Al had seen in a dream.

"In a nutshell," said Lou, "it's about delivering the healing power of stem cells to the nuclei of each and every cell."

As Lou explained the nuances of stem cells and the nano-machines that supposedly carted them around, Al drifted off in his mind to visions of regaining his potency. Al's little buddy hadn't responded for a couple of years. His wife Lisa had passed on, and so had Al's libido. Smith wondered if this elixir could restore his manhood. Al wondered if he could become attractive to the girls once more. He imagined his skin shedding those wrinkles, imagined maybe passing for sixty. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could appear fifty-nine once again, instead of this seventy-three going on seventy-four shit.

Lou the salesman asked, "Do you know anything about nanotech?"

"A little bit," Al said. "It's very small."

"Very small indeed. Micro-machines, Al. My product is a deep penetrator. It courses through your entire body, bringing the healing power into every tiniest fiber of your being. Some say it goes right down into your soul." He paused to gauge the old man's reaction.

Smith's smile quickly drained away, and he snapped himself back to reality. "How much is it?"

Lou shrugged coyly. "How much?"

"Yes. I'd like to sample."

"Ah." Lou turned away for a second. "There are no samples. It's either in or out. Yes or no. Green light, or get the fuck out. Capiche?" Lou snickered knowingly to himself.

Smith postured. He folded his arms, and he leaned back in his chair. "You're pretty confident in your stuff, huh?"

"It's the only game in town, Al. You don't mind if I call you Al?"

"It's fine. So, ...how much?"

"Oh, Al. You can't cheapen what I'm offering you with talk of money. Dirty, filthy money."

"You can't?"

"No. Of course not. I want money, I go to a bank. I come to you, Big Al Smith, the king of Hollywood, and of course?"

"You want to make a movie."

"Of course I want to make a movie, Al! It's the American dream!"

Smith released a long sigh. He was on the hook, and he couldn't wriggle off no matter how hard he racked his mind. Half a century of squashing the little guys on the other side of the desk, but today Al Smith came up impotent. He had no choice but to give this stranger whatever the hell he wanted. Checkmate.

"You're a medical salesman, Lou. What do you know about making movies?"

The young man shrugged. "Oh. You'd be surprised how multi-faceted I am, Al. Don't you worry about my movie. It's gonna be huge. A blockbuster."

Al accepted the possibility, since he had no choice. "So what's your movie about?"

"Oh, it's glorious. I don't have a script yet."

"Of course not."

Lou drummed on Smith's desk, which irritated the old man. "Have you seen the video on our website, the animal tests? Go ahead, call it up. Here." Lou reached across Smith's desk, and he handed Al a business card with the URL.

Smith typed it in. "All right." Al checked the name on the card, which was Louis Seaford, Sales Manager of the company.

A video clip played immediately. Some old mangy mutt, half Labrador, half Shepherd, lay on the bare dirt. An apparently very naughty nurse, her white skirt not even covering her lace panties, injected the dog with a syringe.

After a few seconds, the mutt became active. It jumped up and shook its head wildly. Its fur transformed and shone. The dog barked like a puppy, and it jumped about excitedly. After a few more moments, the dog looked much like a puppy. It licked the brunette nurse on her face in a lapping frenzy.

The nurse actress scratched and rubbed playfully at the dog's belly. It all seemed in fun, but her face suggested something erotic, even nasty.

Al exploded, "That's impossible! You're using visual effects!"

"Oh, no, no, no, no. That's your area Al. Not mine. Besides it's guaranteed. Guaranteed results, or no deal."

"Guaranteed results? In writing?"

Lou seemed insulted. "Everything we do is in writing. You don't think I'd try to trick you, Al? An old pro like you? How could I get away with something like that? Impossible."

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