So engrossed was the boy in putting his wish on paper that he did not even notice when a mosquito bit his arm. A summer breeze ruffled his already untidy hair, and he looked up from the picnic table. “How do I say this?” he asked.
“What do you want to say?” I asked from across the table.
“I want a new bicycle,” he said, and eyed the red bike that I had leaned against the end of the table.
“That is a good thing to want.”
“But you said you can’t give it to me.”
“Of course not. But I can sell it to you.”
The boy chewed at the end of the pencil. Then he said, “But I don’t have any money.”
“You can sell me something I want. A barter exchange.”
“But I don’t have anything to sell.”
“You don’t have to do it now. You can sell it to me later.”
“You mean, like tomorrow?”
“No, when you are grown up.”
His little brow crinkled for a moment then he broke into a smile. “I can sell you lots of stuff when I grow up. Just like my daddy.”
“That’s right, little man,” I said, trying my best not to show my teeth as I smiled into his delightful face. Most children changed their minds when they see my sharp canines, and the last thing I wanted to do now was to frighten this boy away.
He hunched over the paper once more and resumed composing his contract with me. After a few minutes he looked up with a smile of triumph and handed me the signed paper. I read it to make sure that everything was in order.
“My name is Brandon F--- T--- and I want a new bicycle. I promise to pay Mr Puck with something I can sell when I grow up.”
And he signed his full name under it.
“Well then,” I said, “We are in business.” We shook hands and I gave him the brand new bicycle complete with a chrome bell and strobe lights lining the back. After making sure that he was satisfied with the product and seeing him off on it, I put the contract into my briefcase together with dozens of others I had collected during the week. It was so easy to sell stuff to kids nowadays, especially the ones with overworked or separated parents. Few adults question where their new toys came from because they were glad to see their kids happy. That meant very few of my clients rescind on their contract with me.
I hummed a little tune under my breath as I made my way down a path that led to a tunnel under the bridge that crossed the tulip garden. The cool blackness grew warmer the farther I walked and soon it began to cackled and danced from a circular orange glow ahead. I stepped into the portal and my suit burned off instantly, exposing my leathery skin.
“You look glad, Puck,” a tiny demon shouted from a pit of hot oil and fire by the side.
I grinned, showing my curved canines to their diabolical best. “This is the easiest generation to work with.” I waved and hurried to the office to report my earnings. But as I reached the reception platform I slowed, for there were dozens of disgruntled medieval demons collected in front of it.
“This is unacceptable,” one called Brutus shouted. “We need more work. We are some of the most experienced and long-serving demons in hell, yet now there is no work for us.”
“Yea,” a Napoleon shouted, “the world has become effeminate.”
“Look,” the manager called above the din. “Conquerors and gutless despots are a rare breed nowadays. And those that do exist have their powers curtailed.” A rumble of dissent rose from the crowd. The manager pushed on, “Our propaganda crew has very limited success….”
“They should try harder,” a voice roared from the edge beyond my view.
The manager turned to the voice’s direction. “The world does not work like that anymore. There is too much free information. It is even close to impossible to slander an innocent man nowadays. And if we do succeed in destroying one man, a civic uprising will force their lawmakers to make changes to the law that will prevent the same thing from happening in the future.”
“But it is not totally impossible,” Alexander said.
“People are starting to use science and facts to make their stand. People in power are no longer interested in hearsay and gossip anymore.”
Ivan shouted from the back, “After all the work we’ve done, are you saying that evil is now powerless. What have you been doing?” and with those words there was another span of gnashing and growling.
Just as I thought that there was going to be a riot, the ground started shaking so hard that hardened veterans began to fall or slide off the rocks they were standing on. Once the rumblings subsided and the smoke faded away, the Vice President appeared. Unlike the stooped shouldered two-faced manager, he looked suave, civilized and modern. Yet all the demons, including myself, were compelled to bow before him and to cower in terror.
“Puck!” he called, making my heart, which I didn’t know existed, jumped into my throat.
I dashed forward and groveled before him, begging for my life, my existence. “Mercy, mercy,” I whimpered inaudibly, for the breath seemed to have been knocked out of me.
Thankfully he turned his gaze away from me and looked to the crowd. “This Puck here,” he began, “Has brought in a record number of young souls. In another fifteen to twenty years these same young people will reach positions of authority.” He glowered at a demon who had dared to growl while he spoke until that one shriveled to the size of a dried prune. Then he continued, “When these children grow up, I will send Puck to collect their conscience.”
Silence greeted his announcement. I could sense that everyone was as confused as I was. Why would he only want their conscience? Usually we asked for the soul or for their life. Yet like them, I dared not question him. As though sensing our incapability to comprehend he said, “A man with no conscience will have no charity, no justice and he will not think twice about exploiting his fellow man. He will slander indiscriminately and earn himself a mass following of like-minded people. He will be gluttonous and he will reason with the rest of the world that he is right. Now, stop your whining. You will have your conquerors and despots soon and the bloodiest blood-bath imaginable.”
On our knees we cheered and hollered with a hope and joy usually reserved for the heavenly host. Then after the VP had returned to the underground pit, we all turned to the manager eagerly to receive our assignments. As I stood there scanning through my new list of clients to approach, I couldn’t help but hear him give instructions to a dozen or so publicist. “Find the most heartless and successful entrepreneurs you can. Make sure that they are pleasant to behold. Then turn them into heroes and heroines for the world to worship. Remember, don’t allow any of the saints to be noticed unless it is to destroy their reputation. Fifteen to twenty years from now, the world must be ready to reject weakness, to deplore it and to believe that those who are weak do not deserve to live.”
I walked away with a stronger sense of purpose, and an unshakable conviction that we would succeed. The thought that I had reeled in dear little Brandon F--- T--- made me dizzy with pride. He was so smart I didn’t even have to write a contract on his behalf. I have such great plans for his future, and I know that his parents would not be in the way. I must draw up a special education plan for him for the next ten years to make sure that he would grow up to be an apex tyrant. I grinned and licked my lips. I could almost taste my promotion.
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