"A Lack of Taste" and Other Short Stories by Belle Adel

A Lack of Taste

Somewhere in America, a small, picket-fenced neighborhood, much like others of its kind, was alive just enough to ensure that it was not abandoned, with a few neighbors mowing their lawns, and a child or two riding bikes on the weathered-down sidewalks. It was neither too hot, nor too cold, and the wind was blowing just enough to kick a few fallen leaves and other small debris around the surrounding houses. Overall, it was a fine Saturday, and, in many ways, much like the one before it.
On Saturdays like this, a tall, balding, wiry man by the name of Angelo would often spend the day watching television, or perhaps even reading the newspaper, if there was nothing else to watch. Sometimes, his work from the office would pile up so much that he'd have to bring some of it home and do it over the weekend, but that was a rare occurrence. His house was small, so he rarely entertained guests; of course, there were few guests he'd entertain, as, aside from occasionally joining his co-workers for drinks on Friday nights, he lacked any true friends, much less a girlfriend to invite over.

Yet, today was, for some reason, no ordinary Saturday, as, for once, Angelo was hosting a guest in his living room, and had even prepared a small plate of hors d'oeuvres, which was even more unlike himself to do. When this guest had arrived at Angelo's front door, he was prepared to simply ignore the doorbell's ring, as he often did when solicitors or preachers would find themselves on his doorstep. This time, though, Angelo was strangely compelled to see what this guest, this man, was selling; rather, Angelo assumed he was selling something, as the gentleman was not only dressed in a rather nice suit and carried a briefcase, but had made a very odd, yet interesting, offer to Angelo once the door was opened.

Nevertheless, this strange salesman stood in Angelo's living room as the wiry older man looked on, wringing his hands in pure nervousness. The well-suited man had already said his piece to Angelo, and currently appeared to be taking his surroundings in, as he was slowly walking around the room, looking at each individual knick knack, grimacing, then moving on to the next. At one point, he picked up a piece of cheese from the plate Angelo had prepared, and took a bite, before making a strange face and tossing the remainder of the cheese in a nearby trash can.

After a few more moments of silence, the salesperson finally spoke up: "So, Angelo, is it? Tell me, what do you think of my offer?"

"W-well, you see, er, sir—"

"Please, call me Lucifer."

"Lucifer! Right, um..." Angelo continued to wring his hands. "I'm not sure I understand what you're trying to tell me, exactly."

Lucifer let out a small laugh, in what could almost be considered a mocking tone. "What's impossible to understand? All I'm saying is that I can make any and all your dreams come true...for a price, of course."

"See, um, that's the thing, Lucifer--"

"Oh, do you doubt my ability to improve your life in the first place?" The salesman let out a humph, and set his briefcase onto a nearby end table. "Well, if you need some sort of extra validation or proof--"

"No, that's not it!" Angelo said, almost too suddenly. He sighed. "Believe me, I'm desperate for something, anything to better my life." Logically, he knew that what the salesman was offering was, well, practically impossible...yet, something seemed to make him trust the man. "It's just...it's the price, rather."

Lucifer held a single hand up, with the palm facing toward Angelo. "Let me stop you right there," He then crossed his arms. "Your life is--how can I put this lightly--mediocre. Your house? Boring. Your job? Average. Your appearance?" He looked Angelo up and down for a split second, taking in the older man's balding hair, worn jeans and grey sweater, "Plain, at best." He sighed. "Trust me on this, my dearest Angelo. Trust me, and you'll have everything. A beautiful house. Friends. Lovers. You'll never have to work a day in your life ever again, and just focus on its pleasures instead, and all for what? One of your five senses! Do you even need all of them?"