When the Devil Comes Again

A Crude Business at Best

The next morning, the bar had been tidied up and I had examined my wares, double checking to make sure nothing had been stolen. My eyes had fell on the bottle of champagne with utmost suspicion. I pulled it out as a man and his wife came in and I had half a mind to shatter the bottle. It would be a waste of alcohol if I did that.

"That looks like lovely champagne, may we have two glasses?" the middle-aged husband asked.

Oh good, maybe I could finally get rid of this dusty ole bottle. I accepted their offer of money, even if it was lower than what I usually charged. No one ever requested this crap so why not sell it cheaper. The man had retreated to the back table and drank with his wife.

Even though it was early in the morning, in times like this where the night could be just as long as the day I never questioned why someone would be drinking.

When the two left I slacked off again, drawing a crude sketch of the devil-business man that had come in. If he returned I was going to pretend to be abandoned. It probably wouldn't work, but it'd be worth a shot.

The next customer came in around noon, traveling in a party of three. All three requested glasses of champagne.

Believe me, this was not something normal. Heck, I don't even think anyone ordered champagne before the apocalypse. I charged at my normal rate this time. Five people ordering champagne in one day, something was up. When they left, I hastily ran outside and scanned the doors to make sure no signs had been placed encouraging customers to try the champagne. No signs were on the doors or walls of the bars, nor the windows or roof. Don't ask, it took a few minutes to climb up there, a few long painful minutes. Above the door, however, a symbol had been burned into the wood. Nothing I recognized, but I had a feeling it was the cause of the trouble.

Okay, call me paranoid, but that man was up to this, I just knew it. The bottle was already halfway empty and something told me the next few customers would request nothing but champagne.

Oh my wondrous prediction came true. For the next week, the trickle of customers wanted nothing, but champagne. Naturally, I had ran out and had tried my hardest to offer them something else, but none would waver. It was good I had a backup fund, or else I would have been worried about buying food and supplies for the next week.

This was the devil's metaphorical game of chess.

He was a brutal player.

It was late at night and I was exhausted. The day had been filled with arguing with customers and fighting off an angry man who so upset I didn't have champagne he had the intent on burning down the bar and I had to fire a few warning shots, one of which graced his arm for him to leave. I made myself eat half a meal, even though I didn't have the appetite to eat a meal.

A roaring thunder brewed and a beast of a vehicle approached, crisp windows and dark paint coating a monstrosity of a frame. The wind howled, the windows shook, and the dust blew through the doors, swinging them wide open as the devil strode in.

"I had a wonderful day," he said as he dropped himself onto a seat next to the bar.

"Really, those exist?" I stabbed my spoon into the cereal. "Tell me the fabled legend of a wonderful day."

The man chuckled, "You sound like you've had an awful day." I snapped the weak plastic spoon as I repeatedly stabbed it into the bowl. "My day was enlightening. I found a stray cat and ate a filling meal, I chatted with a lonely girl and gave her advice on finding work in these times, I helped two brothers and encouraged them to teach themselves to shoot and I helped a man start his own government."

Can you accuse the devil of being the devil? Can you accuse him of doing wrong? His words were semi innocent, until I realized with the grin he was wearing he didn't do anything good.

"You ate the stray cat, encouraged the girl into prostitution, and are responsible for a boy shooting his brother trying to learn how to work a gun," I said calmly, slipping the bowl of cereal back into its bag and putting it back in it's cabinet under the bar.

"I did?" the man queried. His tone was amused, but it was borderline something else.

"You did," I stated, feeling confident enough that if he had not done any of those things, he would have already shown anger.

"And what of the man who wanted to start his own government?" he asked, leaning on the counter, dark brown eyes flicking up to stare at the young man.

"Who knows," I sighed. "Why are you here?"

"To see you and have a glass of champagne, is that a crime?" His tone had a hint of a tease.

My mouth closed firmly, and I poured him a shot of whiskey and slid it across the bar at him. I slammed the empty champagne bottle down beside him.

He smiled, "is this the cause of your rough day? I'm a great counselor, tell me how your week was."

Oh what the heck. The devil didn't seem like he was leaving any time soon.

"Everyone wanted champagne for some reason this week, nothing else. And believe me, they would not take anything else. If I dare suggested anything besides champagne, I was quickly shot down," I said, groaning.

"With bullets or words?" he joked.

Laughing darkly, I shook my head, "Some thought about pulling a gun on me, but I usually had the upperhand."

"You're a tough one, but I guess it's better than no business," he hinted, swallowing the whiskey in one gulp.

I stared at him; a silent battle of wits took place and he cocked an eyebrow. There was something in the air, something brewing and I felt the weight of his menace on me.

"Don't you dare."

"Do what?" the devil threw down some money. "I don't know what you could mean."

"You...you devil," I hissed.

"Devil? Do you mean devilishly handsome," he stood up and tugged on his collar, adjusting the ruffled fabric.

"Have a nice week."

If you can guess what happened, no one came in for the next two weeks. Sitting alone in the bar almost made me go mad. The journal quickly got boring and I played a few games of knife throwing. I wasn't good at it, but I improved over the time of deafening silence. After a few days, I started walking out of the bar and exploring. I was scared to go too far to go away from the bar, but after some time I didn't feel like returning. What life was there? Was it really worth returning to? What kind of person was I? A guy that never left a bar, a guy that talked to himself for company, a guy that could call no man his friend or family; if anything I was no one. My thoughts were starting to be suffocating.

He was trying to kill me, that's it, he was trying to kill me or make me suffer. That's such...a devil thing to do. On the day he was going to come in, if he was following the same pattern, I closed down.

Foolish, I know, but you don't understand how frustrating it is to go from a life of solitude to being harassed by the devil. What did I even do to deserve this? I don't deserve good luck and a multitude of fortune, but do I really deserve this?