Final Sale
I'm a salesman. Door-to-door, even in an age where post people won't come to their front door without a damn good reason. I get it – really. Nine times out of ten the person at your door is someone you don't want to see; someone selling chocolate cookies or almonds for a cause that is, at best, dubious. Or perhaps its a young man “selling” security systems as he eyes your treasures, just hoping to set foot inside your home and get the chance to rob you blind.
Believe it or not, I'm nothing like them. Really.
I sell souls.
Yeah – go ahead, roll your eyes, but I'm not one to lie, and I've convinced more than my fair share of doubters that what I have for sale is the real deal. How? Well, it starts with how I put myself together.
You're not going to see some slob at your door, hat perched off to the side of his head and clothes stained with the beer and pizza he had last night. Instead, you're going to look out that peephole and see a man, a real man in a trench coat, bowler, and shiny shoes that I've taken the time to buff to perfection. All of it's real, honest – I don't put on airs. This is just who I am.
Sure, sure – I can hear you say it – you'd never open the door for a guy like that. Thing is, you would for me. I've been told I've got an honest face, and I speak the words to match it. I don't tell a single lie when I'm at your door, from the moment you open it until the second I leave with your money.
Still not convinced? Let me break it down for you.
I sell souls. Yeah, you read it above, but you didn't really get it. You skipped right over it, figuring I'd made a mistake or was just trying to play it up for show. Nope. I sell real, honest-to-goodness pieces of some of the most famous souls in history, ones that you can have today and experience by the time I leave.
It's something unique; a product you don't see on store shelves and that you can't order over the Internet. Want 1/100th of the soul of Genghis Khan? Sure. A fiftieth of Marilyn Monroe? You betcha. I've got what you need – North American, European, Asian – you just tell me what you want.
I don't need to be in the room to see the look on your face. “This guy is nuts,” you're thinking, but you're wrong on two counts. First up, I'm not crazy, just trying to offer you something that you can't find anywhere else. Second, I might look like a good friend or favorite uncle, but the fact is that I'm no man.
Bucky S. Kirkham, demon.
Yeah, you read it right, and I tell every single client I sell to exactly that as soon as I'm across the threshold. I'm not like a vampire; I could break in if I wanted to, but I think it's only polite that you know exactly who you're dealing with before you buy something. It's just the honest way to do business.
Again – demon. Forged in those same fires of hell you're so sure don't exist but that you try to keep out of by doing a good deed now and then. Used to work for that red, burning guy you're all so afraid of, but did my time there and got a contract to go above-ground and professional.
Do I have a tail and horns? Sure, if I want them. Demons are all about deception, and we'd be pretty useless if we couldn't change forms.
Of course, you confidence level right now is dipping. “He's just told me he's a demon – and deceptive! I'd slam the door in his face”. Nope. You think you would, but you know as well as I do that a little bit of deception is par for the sales course, but you wouldn't find a bit of it on me. You'd be impressed.
It goes like this: I come inside, you ask what I do, I tell you, and you laugh. Next up, it's free sample time, and you get five minutes as the celebrity soul of your choice, glorying in the feeling of King Arthur’s power, Aristotle’s wisdom or vision of Leonardo da Vinci. Then it's over, and you're begging me to ply my wares, show you what I've really got for sale.
I've got it all.
You paw through my catalog, breath catching in your throat as you realize just what you could have – and look at the prices – they're almost criminal. You ask how long you get the soul for, and I tell you it's forever. I'm not in the business of doing deals like my former boss.
You'll ask to see the contract, just like you should, and you'll skim over it. All is in order, and you pick out your favorite. Great! You're going to get just what you want.
It's as simple as that, really. You'll feel different right away as one of the greats of history takes up partial residence inside your body. Each day, you'll discover more about the soul you've picked to keep you company for the rest of your life.
Oh, and that bit of soul I had to take? The one that had to leave so a new one could be put in its place? Don't you worry about it. I've got a special plan in mind for those, one that shouldn't bother you as you glory in your purchase. I'll just hold on to what you've freely given up.
You've made a good choice, I'll say as I leave, and you'll wave, knowing that you got the best of me, that I was foolish to sell so much for so little.
Just remember: no refunds, final sale.
- D
No comments:
Post a Comment