Fishing in Brains for an Eye with Teeth (Thirteen Tales of Terror) (10 page)

“That’s a good point,” interjected Kylie.

“She
really
needs to go over this guy’s head and talk to
his
boss.  Who knows?  Maybe others have reported him in the past.  She might even get lucky and
her
grievance will be the final straw that gets this guy fired.”

“Wouldn’t that be great!” enthused Kylie.

“
And
,” said the excited caller, “she
definitely
has a case here for sexual harassment.  She could potentially
sue
this company for serious money.  But that’s only going to work if she can show she tried to go over her boss’ head and nobody did anything about his behavior.”

“You’re right,” said Kylie.  “She’s worried that this guy might retaliate and make her life a living hell at work if she reports him but what’s the worst that could happen?  If he fires her, she’s got a case for wrongful termination!”

“Exactly,” said the woman caller.

“Thanks for calling,” said Kylie.

“Thanks, Kylie,” said the caller.

After a clicking hang-up, Kylie said, “She brings up a good point.  There’s no way of knowing if her boss’ inappropriate behavior is limited solely to her.”

“Right,” said Traffic Update girl.  “He
might
have done this before.  Guys like this are generally pretty adept at abusing their power.”

“It’s sad, but generally, that’s true.  She needs to report this guy, not just for her own sake, but for the sake of all the women working at this company!”

“For real,” said Traffic Update girl.

“Let’s take another call,” said Kylie.  After a loud click, she said, “Hi there.  Do you have a comment about the Daily Dilemma?”

“Yeah, Kylie?”  A deep baritone voice is now broadcast through Lenny’s radio.  “I just wanted to give you a guy’s perspective on this.”

“Great!”

“I’ve known guys like this woman’s boss and he is
not
going to stop.  It sounds like he’s obsessed with this woman.  I’ll bet he divorced his wife because of her.”

“Well, she says that she asked him that very thing and he denied it.”

“Of
course
he denied it,” said the male caller.  “The thing about guys like this: they’re just so blinded by their lust and infatuation, they
really
think they’re in love.  And the more
casually
that she acts with him, the more hurt he’s going to become.  Eventually he’s apt to turn vengeful.”

“I hear you,” said Kylie.  “She’s worried about keeping her job and I can understand that, but this guy could be
dangerous
.  She needs to not only contact Corporate about him, she really should look into getting a restraining order, don’t you think?”

“Something!” said the male caller. “This guy needs a serious wake-up call.”

“Thanks for calling,” said Kylie.  After a click, Kylie says, “Well, so far, everyone agrees this is a serious situation that could potentially get a whole lot worse.  Do you have a comment you’d like to add?  If so, give me a call at 888-55-KYLIE.”

Green Day
was now broadcast over the air.  Sitting in his parked car in his driveway beside his house, Lenny Langstrom  clutched his steering wheel, sweating, listening to a lonely song about a
Boulevard of Broken Dreams
.

Lenny finally shut off his engine and got out of his Pontiac.

Muttering, “It can’t be her,” he hurried to his front door and unlocked it.  Once he was inside his modest ranch house, he went straight to his liquor cabinet and poured himself a stout glass of
Glen Levitt
, then headed to his study, where he slumped into a chair behind his computer desk.

Thinking about how much his own situation mirrored that of the one spoken about on the radio, Lenny was in a quiet panic.  He was in love with his secretary— the lovely, incredible, brilliant Esther Gray, who he’d worked with for almost two years.  He divorced his wife just three months ago and yes, if he was honest with himself (in a way he wasn’t honest with anyone else), he did it because he was obsessed with Esther. 

He’d been calling her lately.  And just last week, he wrote her a love letter.

It all matched.

And yet Lenny told himself he couldn’t be the
only
older divorced man in love with a younger woman.  Not in a city
this
size.

He couldn’t believe Esther would do something like this.

He grabbed his mouse, disengaging the screen-saver on his personal computer.  He signed online and navigated his way across the World Wide Web to the site for the radio station he was listening to earlier.

Generally he didn’t listen to pop rock.  The radio in the car used to remain forever tuned to the oldie station.  But lately he’d been listening to Esther’s favorite station.

Lenny clicked on Kylie McKinney’s DJ page and pulled up The Daily Dilemma Online.  Reading the letter from “Fed-up,” he suddenly grabbed his scotch and guzzled it down.

“Esther
did
write this!”

He opened a drawer on his desk and looked down at a photograph of Esther and her best friend, Danielle.

Part of Fed-up’s letter read,

‘
When I took a week off work a couple months ago, I came back and discovered things on my desk were missing.  I don’t suspect he was the one who took my stapler, but I do think he was the one who stole a picture of me and my best friend.’

Tears welled up in Lenny’s eyes.

Over the course of the next couple of hours, he got progressively more drunk as he rode an emotional roller coaster that peaked with extreme anger only to plummet to the depths of darkest depression.

He never realized how pathetic he was, how delusional he was.  Until today’s Daily Dilemma, Lenny truly believed Esther
liked
him.  He never
dreamed
she saw him as a stalker and a loser.

“What is wrong with me?” he woefully asked himself.

Then, angrily, he wondered, “What’s wrong with
her
?  Why won’t she give me a
chance
?”

Lenny hadn’t cried in a decade, not since his mother died, but now, as he stared at Esther’s smiling photograph and remembered how he stole it off her desk, he bawled like a baby.

He saw himself as Esther saw him, as those people on the radio saw him: a deluded, dirty old man.  He couldn’t deny that he lusted for her.  But this
wasn’t
infatuation.  Thinking how those radio callers branded his feelings as ‘infatuation’ infuriated him.

This wasn’t a crush.  He had worked with her for two years and he had truly fallen in love with her.

Lenny hung his head and cried.

When his tears finally dried up, fear was added to his acidic emotional mix.  Virtually every caller to that radio show suggested Esther report his behavior to Corporate.  Despite their speculation to the contrary, he’d never done anything like this before.  But his bosses had a strict No Tolerance policy when it came to sexual harassment.  They might fire him.

He poured himself more booze, even though he knew he was already looking at a nasty hangover tomorrow.

Sitting at his computer, drunk and broken-hearted, Lenny insisted, “I really do
love
her!”  With a sob, he admitted, “I don’t want to live without her!”  After still more tears, he wiped his eyes, whining, “I’d sell my
soul
to be with her.”

Immediately, Lenny’s computer cheerfully informed him, “You’ve Got Mail!”

Eager for any distraction (even if it was only spam), he pulled up his mailbox.

The new email was titled:
Fulfill Your Dreams TONIGHT!

Curious, he opened the email and read. . . .

Tired of not realizing your greatest desires?  Fed-up with life?  Heartbroken because that Special Someone doesn’t feel the way you do?

CHANGE YOUR CIRCUMSTANCES NOW!

Make your dreams come true!

Learn how YOU— Lenny Lee Langstrom — can sell your soul to the Devil and turn your fondest fantasies into treasured realities!

The enclosed link was:
http://www.$ellYerSoul2Satan.hel.

If his emotions weren’t in such turmoil, he’d probably be amused.  He knew this must be a joke but the
timing
of it was phenomenal.           

Hurry!
  said the final line of the email. 
This one-time limited offer expires at midnight tonight!

Lenny clicked on the link and sat back in his chair to wait.  He used a dial-up connection, not DSL or Broadband, and his PC didn’t have a lot of RAM.  Generally it took several minutes to pull up something on the Internet.

Remarkably, there was no delay.  The web page popped up instantly.  Taking another swig of Scotch, Lenny read. . . .

Welcome, Mister Langstrom, to Hell’s Consignment House, the most user-friendly website in the universe!

Because of the recent modernization of an ancient system, Satan will not be directly entering into negotiations with you.  Rather, Lucifer has empowered numerous demons to act on his behalf.

The process of putting your soul up for sale at Hell’s Consignment House couldn’t be easier!

Simply click on the link that will appear at the end of this message.  You will be prompted to complete a tentative contract for the purchase of your eternal spirit.  You will be able to list whatever it is you desire to receive in exchange for your soul.  Standard with all contracts is a clause guaranteeing that you will not die for another 46 years from disease, old age, or natural calamities.

Lenny was 46-years-old.  The idea of doubling his age before he died definitely agreed with him.

Once the tentative contract is completed, simply change its status to ACTIVE.  Your requested terms will then be immediately available for viewing by all of Hell’s brokers.

Be aware: the more complicated your request, the harder it will be to find an exact match.

Within seconds after posting your proposal, you’ll know if your terms are acceptable.  If they are
not
acceptable, you will be offered a counter-proposal.

Finally, you will be asked to seal the contract with your blood.

It’s just that simple!

You need not sleep alone tonight, Lenny.

He jumped as if bee-stung, just at the thought of not having to face an empty bed tonight.

Happiness awaits.

Post your terms NOW.

Click to create a contract:
here
.

Before clicking, Lenny guzzled the last of his Scotch and then poured himself a glass of Jack Daniels.  He was out of Scotch, so he switched to whiskey.

The word
here
began to blink on Lenny’s screen.

He straddled a line between belief and incredulity.  He couldn’t decide if this entire site was some kind of elaborate joke or if there was something truly sinister going on here.

In the end, curiosity ruled.

He clicked on the link.

What looked very similar to an email opened up.  The subject line was already filled out for him.  It read,

For Sale: the immortal soul of 46-year-old Leonard Lee Langstrom.

The body of the email was mostly blank but it did have a beginning and ending already written.

The beginning said,

I, Leonard Lee Langstrom, agree to sell my soul to an authorized agent of Satan in exchange for—

After a lengthy blank space, the ending read,

In exchange for being granted these stated conditions, I will forfeit all spiritual rights after my death.  Without being Judged, I will be sent directly to Hell.

As a further stipulation to my damnation, I will be granted another 46 years of life, free of any threat from disease, infirmities associated with old age, and all natural calamities.

Lenny’s hands grabbed his keyboard and his fingers began typing, as if independently deciding the matter on their own.

He wrote,

. . . in exchange for the undying love of Esther Nicole Gray.

He stopped and stared at the words on the screen, wondering if he should elaborate or not.  He finally decided there was no need.

All he wanted was Esther’s love.

There was no SEND button like with an email.  Instead, a little rectangle at the bottom of the screen said,
ACTIVATE PROPOSAL
.

He clicked the button.

The error message appeared immediately as his speakers barked a startling tone.

Lenny pouted as he read,  
Agents of the Devil are unable to affect love.  Might we suggest lust, respect, or perhaps even fear?

A gamut of other emotions are available as substitutes for love.

Lenny’s bottom lip protruded even farther.  Like a spoiled child, he whined, “But I want her to
love
me!”

He stared at what was written on the screen.

The word
lust
sparked his imagination.

He told himself, “If I can’t get Esther to love me right away . . . maybe I can get her to fall in love with me
over time
.”  He nodded, reprising his earlier theme of,
If she’ll only give me a chance!

Lenny clicked away the error message and backspaced over what he wrote.

In exchange for his soul, he asked for,

. . . the undying lust, passion, trust, and infatuation of Esther Nicole Gray
.

Writing “infatuation” seemed almost like revenge, considering how people on the radio were quick to label
his
love as infatuation.

He studied what he’d written, sipping his whiskey.

Then, with a grin, he put the word ‘obedience’ between ‘passion’ and ‘trust.’

Thinking that was
perfect
, Lenny activated the proposal.

This time there was no error message.  Instead, his computer informed him,
Proposal Under Review.

Exactly six seconds later, he received the message,
Proposal Accepted.