“I don’t believe we’ve met, Joe,” said the Devil, as he extended a hand. “See, I’ve changed. I’m not who I was.” The Devil smiled smug and self-satisfied, but he had only one chin it was true, and his hair was longer and thicker.
Joe could have walked away. The Devil couldn’t have stopped him; nobody living could ever stop Joe. But then Joe wouldn’t have seen it when it happened. So instead Joe just turned to the televisions and watched America’s finest classically-trained musicians play a arrangement of “Lord of the Dance.”
“It’s a brand new day,” said the Devil. “Night’s end, the reign of the superman. These are wonderful, exciting times.”
“Today’s a lucky day,” said Joe.
“Every day is a lucky day for someone, boy,” the Devil replied. “Today I think it’s mine. You know I put him in a wheelchair? Did you see that? Did you read about it in the New York Times?”
“What?”
“Cheney. Just a little kicker for the occasion, because I’m in a celebratory mood. Today’s a witching day, you’re right. Our man in Washington, going to be the new broom that sweeps clean, going to give us all a fair deal… smile, she’s taking your picture.”
Joe reflexively threw his hands up, but it came out as waving to the camera. She wasn’t really taking Joe’s picture; he just happened to be in the shot. She was mainly focused on the Devil.
“Wow,” she said. She leaned forward conspiratorially. “Shouldn’t you be in Washington?”
The Devil leaned towards her, too, and smiled. “Aren’t I?” he whispered. Behind him, the televisions all panned from Yo-Yo Ma, across the crowd of public figures up on the dais behind where it was going to happen, and the Devil stood also among them.
She half-laughed, half-gasped, like she wasn’t sure what the joke was, but she wanted to be in on it. The Devil winked at her, and she went on her way.
“Don’t you know her?” the Devil asked Joe.
Joe shook his head.
“That’s a shame. Listen, Joe,” the Devil said. “I was thinking about asking you a little favor – which I would return in kind – on account of this being such a witching day, but now, well, here I see you standing with your unearned satisfaction and your stolen extra shot…”
“The machine makes two,” Joe said.
“Yeah, no, that was a lie,” said the Devil. “She was just sticking it to me, you know how it goes. You don’t like your job, you don’t quit, you don’t try to make your life better, you complain because you like to complain, and you get passive-aggressive and you steal and shirk and that’s the American Way, God bless us.”
“Just today,” said Joe. “Can’t you leave me alone just today?”
“Today’s the day I get to start over! It was never me who was beaten. It’s not me who’ll be remembered with scorn. Today’s my day. Today’s the day I pick myself up, brush myself off. Today’s the day I look in the mirror and see no flaws worth mentioning, and I treat myself to something nice and I don’t get prosecuted for war crimes. It’s a lucky day,” said the Devil.
“Just for today.”
“I think I’ll be a cabinet secretary. Or chief of staff. Someone he trusts. You watch, he’ll flub it without me there to help him.”
They watched it happen.
“You see? He needs me. You all need me,” said the Devil. “Well, listen, it’s been fun. I can’t deny I like rubbing reality in your face, and I’m in a good mood today. Seeing you is always a little bit of a treat for me, boy, but I’ve got work to do. It’s not all fun and dancing.”
Joe looked at him then, stared as if seeing him for the first time. “Don’t move.”
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It’s been awhile since Joe met Karl Rove. Good to see him again.
And the omlette one… I read that after a morning in Georgia having watched debate highlights on CNBC in the lobby over the continental breakfast… a business traveler of course.