Once upon a time, in the hippest, most happening city there ever was, there lived a handsome and sinister devil named Devin. Devin had fiery crimson skin and two gigantic horns and a forked tail and he wore his hair in a gloriously disheveled top-bun which he never took down (as it would give him advice from time to time). Devin worked in a pretentious coffeehouse built out of reclaimed popsicle sticks and primitive light bulbs and rumor had it that he-himself had forged the wrought iron fixtures in the fires of Hell.
BUT ONE DAY, while Devin was obnoxiously banging his metal milk pitcher over and over again, swirling the froth and peering into it discerningly, there came waltzing through the door of the café the most beautiful girl in skin tight spandex pants and a tank top revealing two full sleeves of the cutest new-school tattoos he’d ever seen. She skipped merrily up to the counter and batted her eyelashes at him and begged with the slightest of whines,
“Have you got any almond milk?” Devin paused his tapping and swirling a moment to listen to what his top-bun had to say and it whispered eerily into his ear, it said,
“Go ahead, take her, she’s askin’ for it!” So Devin the devil put on his most charming of smiles and replied with a matter-of-fact, he said,
“Sure thing, Li’l Mama, but it’s gonna cost ya extra…” And the girl pathetically whimpered,
“How much??” And Devin barked back,
“Nuthin’ really Sweetheart! Just yer SOUL!”
Then suddenly from the depths of the milk pitcher came the sickening sounds of the screams of the damned, as rising out of its rim was a tremendous cloud of the blackest of bats, plus, witches and skeletons, scarecrows and gnats—not to mention—animated instruments of torture and a whole parade of evil clowns. The poor girl screamed as the entire café around her morphed and melted into a sizzling lake of fire and she found herself stranded on an island with nowhere to run, while leering right in her face was Devin the devil and the devious bun. He seized her by the shoulders and growled through clenched and razor sharp teeth, he said,
“Surrender yer soul, Kiddo, an’ th’ vegan cappuccino will be yours.”
But the girl stood tall and silent and glared back defiantly and breaking free from his grasp turned her back on Devin the devil revealing two perfectly symmetrical (and adorable) angel wings tattooed on her shoulder blades. And from the ink sprayed forth the brightest of white lights and a hail of feathers and heaven-song. The top bun hissed like a pile of snakes as Devin tried desperately to shield his eyes. Then the girl took flight, transforming all the hideous horrors of the underworld into puppies and kitties and new born lambs and replaced the lake of lava with a puddle of strawberry non-dairy frozen dessert.
Devin writhed and thrashed as the angel descended down on top of him and withdrew from her purse a pair of sparkling scissors and cut the bun from the top of his head and cast it into the milk pitcher and steamed the demonic locks into oblivion. Then Devin, feeling charitable, stood and dusted himself off and prepared for the girl a most silky and elegant, vegan, organic, fair-trade cappuccino and presented it to her (free of charge) and asked her just ever so delicately,
“Hey, you wanna go out sometime?” And the girl called back as she walked out the door,
“Go to Hell, CUE-BALL!”
This story was written by Clyde ALWAYS who, for the promotion of bliss, writes and recites his own blend of tall tales and clever verses.