Courtesy for the Devil

You must have been freezing out there!

Oh, you don’t look cold, but, you know, my cousin Ozzie never looked cold either, and one day, he was outside, and a cow kicked him, and the next thing you know, he’s dead. And by the time they found him, his body was cold as shaved ice, and Uncle Yankee tried to tell us that it was the cow’s kick that did him in, but that cow never kicked that hard. I think he was cold, and the cold sensed it, because cows don’t like the cold, and it kicked Ozzie, and he fell down, but he didn’t die from the kick or the fall, it was the cold.

We keep it nice and warm in the house. Every room. Even the shed out back. I keep a little heater in there, because I want all the space that’s mine to be warm and inviting. I saw you down by the lake, and I thought, That person needs a warm space. They need some heat. They need the guidance of the hearth. That’s how I talk, and I don’t want you to be taken aback by that. It’s not goo-goo gaga whattaya whattaya speech. It’s just speaking the way we were always meant to speak before we learned the language that kept us out. Outside. Outside in the cold. Like you were. Before I found you.

Do you like the fire I made? I learned how to make fire from my mother. She could make a fire like you wouldn’t believe. The toastiest fires in town. People used to come from far and wide to sit by my mother’s fire. Anybody can strike a match or rub two twigs together, but not everybody can make the kind of fire you can fall asleep in front of, and my mother made me promise, before she died, that I would never share a home with anyone who couldn’t make a good fire. Now, I’ll confess something to you--I never did meet anyone who could make a fire as good as my mother, but that was to be expected. My husband, may he live amongst the stars, tried his best, and his fires were appropriate, but they weren’t like my mother’s, but I loved him, and when you love somebody, you break the promises you made to all the dead people in your life.

I think you’ll still enjoy this fire, but it’s not for me to say. I can’t tell you if you’re getting warm or not. Only you know that. Only you know what makes you warm and what doesn’t. Blankets. Sweaters. A nice bath. Do you need a bath? You smell just terrible. I wasn’t going to say anything, because I’m very welcoming and courteous and polite, but I just had the entire house scented with this dead rose perfume my neighbor Josie invented, and I don’t want to have to ask her to come back over again, because every time she does, I find her passed out in one of the upstairs rooms. Something about my house causes her to pass out, and I have no idea what it is. Personally, between you and I, off the record, I believe she likes it. I think she likes passing out in this house, but she says it’s a malevolent spirit, and I suppose she could be right, but what I can tell you is that every single person who died in this house was gentle and loving when they were alive, and I don’t see why that would change in death. Why would you become mean and angry after you die? I suppose if someone murdered you, you might get upset, but there were only four or five murders here, and they all took place in the basement, and I’d be very surprised if the basement spirits figured out how to haunt the rest of the house since I keep a very large crucifix at the top of the basement stairs, and even then, I’m not sure those spirits would be all that upset, because they were very gentle murders. They weren’t your Hitchcock kind of murders. No, no, no, nothing like that. They were a softer sort of homicide, and none of those victims were much to write home about when they were alive. I just can’t picture them tormenting Josie, because why expend the energy, you know? If you’re going to haunt someone, why not haunt me? I’m here all the time. I go down in the basement every day when I’m shaving my apples. Never experienced anything supernatural. Not once.

That’s why when I saw you down by the lake, I thought, My goodness, what if this is the Devil? What if the Devil is standing down by the lake, scheming up a way to enter my home?

How I think about it is--If the Devil wants to come in, the Devil is coming in, so you may as well invite him in, and that’s why I ushered you right inside, and now here we are. Because if you want to haunt me for me, I think you should just go ahead and do it. Josie walks around town acting like she’s the only one good enough to be haunted, but we all know that’s not true, and I tell her all the time that if I wanted to be possessed by the ultimate evil, I could be, but I just don’t have the time, what with the canasta tournament I have to run three times a year. But you know, you only live once, so if you want to be possessed, you might as well do it while you have the chance, and that’s why I asked you in, and you smell horrendous and you have those dirty clothes on, and it’s possible you’re just an average psychopath, but if that’s the case, I think you’d be a bit more charming, because you haven’t said a single word this entire time, which leads me to think you’re the Devil, because my mother used to say that the Devil lets you talk and talk until you talk your way into Hell, and I think that might be what I’m doing now.

I didn’t realize I was holding your hand this entire time, and your hand is freezing! I was hoping the Devil would have warmer hands, but there’s still a lot I don’t know, even at my age. A person can’t know everything, you know, but everyone can learn how to build a good fire. Not as good as the one my mother used to make, but better than anything Josie and my dead husband could come up with, and you know, the last time I told my husband that, he called me a name and went down in the basement to get some more kindling, and I went down there, and oh boy, I don’t even want to tell you what happened next, because it’s not a pleasant story to share with company, but believe you me, he never called me a name again.

I just think everybody should be courteous, don’t you?

No reason not to be.