From: Stacy Barrington <[email protected]>
Date: Mon Feb 10, 2003 2:09 pm
Subject: Befuddled (Chapter Two)




"Mind if I come in?" the long-haired man asked,
then barged into the living room without waiting for
an answer.

Sarah just stood there gawking, admiring the
stranger's English accent.

"Blimey, it's dark in here," the man said, clicking
on the light. He audaciously went over to the sofa to
sit down without waiting to be asked. If he weren't
so gorgeous, Sarah would have tossed him out on his
ear.

The handsome man smiled at Sarah, who was still
standing at the door. "Are you going to sit down,
then?"

Sarah only nodded, then put down her heavy satchel
and went to sit in the chair beside the sofa. She
resisted the temptation to sit next to her guest. He
was so beautiful she wanted to run her fingers through
his feathery mane.

"I," Sarah hesitated, "didn't catch your name."

"Oh, I go by a lot of monikers," the man said with
a jolly grin. "Would the name Lucifer, Prince of
Darkness, or the Devil mean anything to you?"

Sarah looked at the man as if he had eels wriggling
out of his ears.

"I prefer to be called Jareth, however. I'm also
ruler of a kingdom of goblins." The man saw Sarah was
still gawking at him. "I'm a goblin too, just a
unique one."

Sarah finally managed to blurt something out. "Who
are you?"

Jareth noticed the fear in Sarah's tone. "Oh, dear.
I've frightened you. That always happens when I walk
the world of mortals and tell people I'm the Devil."

"But, I thought the devil had horns and carried a
pitchfork," Sarah said with a catch in her throat.

"Oh, that bloody stereotype," Jareth said, rolling
his eyes. "Actually, a lot of the things in the Bible
aren't explained in enough detail. I'm not the ugly,
wretched fallen angel I'm made out to be."

Sarah shrank back into her chair, realizing Jareth
might just be who he claimed. "Please don't hurt me.
I mean, I know I snap at my parents and throw
tantrums, but I honestly don't think that warrants the
devil coming to take me to Hell."

Jareth laughed uproariously. "No, no, my dear girl.
I haven't popped in here to throw you into a fiery
pit for all eternity. Besides, Hell's not so bad. It
can be quite fun. Well, it is for people who haven't
been sent there for doing something really atrocious."

"How do you mean?" Sarah asked curiously.

"Hitler certainly isn't in Hell for an afterlife of
luxury. He's there forever to do something very
humiliating."

"Which is?"

"He's a fry cook in one of my McDonald's."

Sarah stood up with a start. She was now thinking
there was no truth to Jareth's story after all.
"You're a nut! I don't care how cute you are, you
have to leave!"

Jareth's eyes widened. "Cute, am I? Well, thanks
for the compliment. I do my best to stay
well-groomed."

Sarah blushed, realizing she said something too
bold. "Please, if you won't tell me why you're here,
just leave."

"I can't do that, Sarah. I'm here for your sake."

"What are you, a social worker? Did one of my
teachers at school send you to speak to me?"

Jareth was amused. "Sit down again, dear. Don't
get excited."

Sarah was excited, just not in a way she'd care to
mention. She sat back down in her chair.

"I'm not a social worker," Jareth said calmly, "and
I didn't speak to any of your teachers. I will
eventually meet with a few of them, though. There are
a few spots in Hell just for them."

Sarah suddenly started sobbing. This was all too
much for her.

Jareth was concerned. "No, it's not what you think,
Sarah. They won't be burned or cooking french fries
like Hitler. They'll get minor punishment."

"That's not why I'm crying," Sarah wept. "I just
don't understand why you're really here to see me."

"I imagine this is a bit bewildering for you,"
Jareth said soothingly. "I mean, you're obviously
miserable. Your parents don't really understand you,
you have a baby brother who screams like a banshee,
and then the Devil pops in to see you."

Sarah didn't respond. She just kept crying.

"Now, now," Jareth said gently. "There's no need
for you to run away from home, is there? You could do
something far better than that."

"Like what?"

"Like give me your soul for seven wishes."


--


After a cup of tea and a further explanation from
Jareth, Sarah's nerves seemed more settled. "So, if I
sign my soul over to you, you'll grant me seven
wishes?"

"That's right," Jareth said, munching on a ginger
snap. "Good tea, by the way. I like the cream you
use."

"It's actually half-and-half," Sarah said with a
coy smile. Jareth certainly illustrated the phrase
'handsome devil', and she couldn't take her eyes off
him.

"Oh," Jareth said, returning a smile. "Never mind.
It's still quite good. Now, back to business. Are
you interested in my offer?"

"I'm still not sure," Sarah admitted. "I mean, I
don't know if I like the idea of going to Hell after
my wishes are all used up."

"Don't worry, Sarah. It could take a while for you
to spend all seven wishes. Even if you used them up
in a week, Hell won't be bad for you. For you, it
will be paradise."

"Why will it be a paradise for me?"

"If you sign over your soul to me you become a
'preferred customer', so to speak. You'll have
nothing but fun in the afterlife."

"Why can't I just go to Heaven?"

Jareth laughed at Sarah's question. "That would be
pointless, wouldn't it? You're selling your soul to
the Devil, Sarah, not to God. But, it would be the
next best thing to Heaven. And, you wouldn't die
horribly; when your last wish is over, you'll
harmlessly be transported to Hell."

"I'm still not sure," Sarah said meekly.

Jareth smiled. "Take time to think about it. Even
if none of your wishes work out for whatever reason,
you'd have eternal youth in Hell."

"Well," Sarah said, still uncertain, "I'll think
about it. At least I won't have to run away from home
now."

"Good girl," Jareth said jovially. "Now, I'll be
back as soon as you decide to summon me." He conjured
up a crystal ball in his hand, and it transformed into
a small white card. He handed it to Sarah, who took
it with fascination.

"A business card?" Sarah mused.

"Yes," Jareth replied. "It has my business name on
it, but you may still call me Jareth. If you need to
reach me, just give me a ring." With that, he
vanished in a puff of glitter.

'Glitter?' Sarah thought to herself. She was
surprised Jareth didn't vaporize in a burst of flames.
Oh well, it was just another misconception about the
devil.

Sarah read the fine print on the card aloud. "Robin
Zakar, proprietor of the occult. Dial toll free, one
eight-hundred, SOUL."