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His favorite trick was to attack serious articles and try to make them look bad by taking issue with their main points out of context. Of course, if anyone said anything or voiced an opinion, he'd be off on a trip that confused the issues until no one was quite sure what was really said or done. Often, he muddied the water until no one could drink it. That was his game, and he liked it. Or at least he did until once, toward the end, Satan, Himself, had one of his priests write and post an article that He thought well of on one of the news groups. Well, don't you know that whimp really tore into Satan's words and made a mess out of His message to His people.
Well, that did it. That was the day, the whimp pissed Satan off. Now, if there is one thing you don't want to do, is piss Satan off, but that whimp managed it, all right. He pissed Satan off real good! Well, Satan is patient, after all, He has all the time in the world... Now, Satan didn't come jumping out of the woodwork to put a kink in this guy's neck or anything violent like that. Satan is a lot more subtle. What Satan did, in His own round-about way, was to send an imp to deal with the whimp.
One night this pain-in-the-ass whimp, becoming bored at his computer, decided to actually get out and rake up some real action. So, after cruising around town for a while, he stopped by the local bar to get a drink and maybe make some moves on the local barmaid whom he'd heard wasn't too hard to catch in a weak moment. Instead, what he found was an old drunk sitting at the bar with a half-gone beer and an empty shot glass. The whimp sat down on a stool and ordered a Single Malt Scotch with a water back and mused over where the barmaid was hiding out. Maybe she went to the john...? Anyway, it wasn't long before the drunk mumbled something to strike up a conversation.
It seemed that the drunk was tapped out and wanted to sell this little, golden-filigree, glass vial with a fine chain attached to the side of it. He said that it was an Imp on a Golden Leach. Sure enough, it did look as though there was something dark and misty in there, but he couldn't be sure as the many curves of the vial blurred the image of the nebulous thing in the bottle. The drunk went on to say that he'd had it for a while and that it always brought him good luck and kept him out of trouble. Right now, another drink was more important to him, so he offered to sell the whimp the imp for a drink. Well, the golden vial was pretty heavy for its size and the whimp figured that it was at least worth the price of a drink, so he bought it, hoping that it really was something Satanic and that it would be a good conversational piece. Hell, who knows, the drunk might have been telling the truth, and the little imp might really bring him good luck. That would be worth something, for sure!
The drunk finished his drink and left the bar, staggering a bit as he lumbered through the door. No one inside paid any attention. Outside, no one realized that nobody actually came through the door as it opened and closed as if by magic... The guy who sold hot chestnuts outside under the bare tree figured that the wind must have caught the door just right, and he didn't pay any further attention.
Along about then, the barmaid appeared from the depths of the smoky, back room, bursting through the swinging doors with a plate in either hand and a broad smile on her face. After all, it was Friday night, and everyone was in a festive mood. Arnold, the whimp, patted her ample behind as she swept past, and with a giggle and a wink, she smiled back at him. There was that flash of recognition between them that let him know that she was interested and probably willing. Arnold began to contemplate the possibilities of a night with April, the barmaid, when he felt the little, golden-filigree vial in his pocket sort of shudder and almost turn over.
Shocked, Arnold stood up straight and grabbed for his pocket, spilling his drink with a brush of his elbow. You can imagine the strange sensation. It was sort of like having a pager, set to vibrate go off in your pocket when you weren't expecting it. That can really startle a fellow... Anyway, Arnold went dancing around like something had him by the balls, fanning at his crotch with his hands, trying to stop that tickling sensation. This, of course was a pretty brief episode, and the vial quit trembling almost as soon as it began, but it had its effect. After the smoke cleared and it was all over, Arnold had a moment to calm down and think about what had happened. He figured that at one point, it felt something like somebody or something turning over in its grave. It gave him the sweats just to think about it!
It was then that Arnold heard the voice. It was a little voice to be sure, but it sounded in his head, so he couldn't mistake it. The small-still-voice said, "Master, don't sleep with that woman, she has aids." "What, said Arnold, Who said that? " "It is I, Master. I'm your Imp on the Golden Leach. I belong to you now, Master, and as long as I do, it is my job to keep you safe from all harm. That woman has aids, and if you sleep with her, you'll get it too." Well, that set Arnold aback. it opened his eyes like a couple of shiny, new dollars, as the realization sunk in that he really did have a genuine, Satanic object with a real imp inside. Not only that, but the imp was cursed to keep him safe as long as he owned him! All this Satanic stuff was real, after all! Who would have thought! But, what would he do now? He surely couldn't sleep with April, even if she wanted to get it on with him-- not now that he knew that she could infect him with certain death. Well, her back was turned now, waiting on some customers, so Arnold the whimp quietly snuck out of the bar, clutching his whimp's imp tightly in his hand, way down there in his pocket.
Whew! He was safe now, he'd made it out of there without a fuss, and if he stayed away long enough, April would think that she had mistaken his motives. "Chestnuts," said the vender under the dark-limbed tree, "Chestnuts. Fresh, hot Chestnuts!" Arnold, discounted the man's efforts at selling him a bag of the hot, sweet nuts as he hurried down the darkened street away from the corner bar where a quizzical April cast her gaze about, looking first here and then there for him and wondering what had happened.Arnold neared the next corner by the bus stop, stepped out from the cluster of buildings and walked past that big lilac bush that partly obscured the road. A heartbeat later, he started to step off the curb and cross the street, but deep inside his head, he heard the words, "Stop, Master. Don't cross the street just now as a truc..." Just then, a large van whose approach was hidden by the bush, screeched around the corner right in front of Arnold, showering gravel over his feet, causing him to jump back out of reflex action. "Man," said Arnold, "If I'd stepped out in the street just then, I'd be dead!" Arnold knew that the imp had saved him once again and said, "Hey imp, how did you know that truck was coming like that?" "It's my job to keep you safe, Master, and I can see into the future a little bit when your safety is at stake as it was just now." "Well, thanks," said Arnold. "It's my job," said the imp.
Well, things went pretty smoothly for Arnold for the next few days, but at last he heard that little voice in his head once again. He was downtown, walking quickly along that old, rose-tinted cement sidewalk that ran from Third Street to Ninth Street on Center. He was thinking about what he wanted to do next, when suddenly, that small-still-voice shattered his train of thought, abruptly stopping him in his tracks. "Wait, Master," said the imp. "There is danger!" Just then, a large and rather heavy flower pot fell from a third story window and smashed on that section of sidewalk where Arnold would now lie dead, skull caved in, had he not been forewarned by his imp. This was getting weird. Arnold had lived a pretty introverted computer geek's life up to now, and seldom did anything untoward ever happen to him outside of receiving some nasty e-mail and the occasional hard disk crash. Now, all of a sudden, it seemed that every time he turned around something happened that could badly hurt him or perhaps even kill him. What was going on?
Well, the frequency of Arnold's troubles intensified as the days passed until it came to the point where he hated to go outside, even to the store to get milk. he'd just gotten back from a harrowing trip where a plate glass window exploded, nearly cutting him to shreds, a guy on a motor bike misjudged a corner and came sliding at him at great speed; and as if that weren't enough, down at the corner bank, two guys were hoisting a medium-sized safe up to an upstairs office via a cherry picker when the stinger broke and the safe buried itself about a foot and a half into the sidewalk below. Any of these accidents could have spelled the end for Arnold if it hadn't been for that wonderful, little imp in the golden vial in his pocket. However, Arnold had never seen so much destruction in his whole life. Why was all this happening around him?
Then one day, Arnold was sitting at his computer, writing a seething rebuttal to a new article that had appeared on his favorite news group when he once again heard his imp's voice, but this time the imp sounded harried and weak. "Master, a daemon has destroyed me, and I'm dying. I did everything I could to save you, but the harder I tried, the harder the powers of Hell worked to undo my efforts. Now they want to destroy you too! Well, just before the daemon got me, I worked a spell to protect you from harm. I knew that I couldn't last, so I took measures to keep you safe. " Just then, the daemon clamped down hard on the little imp, and the little guy's last words were, "Master, the spell will protect you as long as you don't-- oh, what is that word in your language? It's-- It's Shabaz? No, that isn't right. Master, I'm failing. I cannot stay... What ever you do, don't Shabaz..." And with that, the imp was gone forever, and the tiny golden vial lay broken on the floor.
Well, Arnold was taken aback for sure this time. He wondered what the imp meant by "Don't Shabaz?" Well, Arnold could see that he'd been saved from all of the little hurtful things that people ordinarily have happen to them and so, since he missed his share of hurt and pain, his account had become out of balance and the powers-that-be wanted to rectify the situation and set things straight. You cant fool with mother nature and get away with it. Anyway, Arnold, as you remember was a true whimp and still tried to avoid his fate. He avoided anything that could hurt him. He paid extra close attention to where he was going and to what was coming toward him. He was careful as to what he ate and where he slept. He turned the gas off so he couldn't asphyxiate while he slept, and speaking of sleeping, he avoided ever sleeping with anyone else as he might contract something even worse than aids from them. He wouldn't go out at all any more, and had his groceries delivered so he wouldn't be exposed to any further destructive events.
Well, there wasn't much he could do as he had to avoid doing whatever "Shabaz" was. What could it be? The thought frightened him as he just couldn't figure out what was a "Shabaz" He even checked the library and talked on the phone to professors at the college, but no one knew. One old, bearded Hebrew professor thought that it might be a word from one of the old Persian or Syrian languages, but he couldn't be certain which language or what the word actually meant.
Well this went on pretty well throughout the summer, but winter finally came with its usual damp and chill. Arnold's apartment was now getting pretty chilly with the gas turned off, and he started to catch a cold. Evidently, he still hadn't committed "Shabaz" as he was still breathing and fretting. You know how whimps are... Heck, I couldn't figure it out either. Oh well, this particular day, I had dropped in for a visit and was sitting in the big wing chair across the room when Arnold looked up, terrified from his computer, hesitated, and then gained control of himself. He sure looked red-eyed and miserable. A second later he shuttered again, then his eyes grew wide with recognition as the fear loomed up within his heart. Then clutching his nose, he said in a faltering voice, " Oh, no, no, I, I, I'm going to have to snee...