# 08/14/2010 - LM - A Blind Date with the Devil



## Like a Fox (Aug 13, 2010)

*LM 08/14/2010 – A Blind Date with the Devil *
Hello everyone.

After a slack period it’s time for your next LM:

*A Blind Date with the Devil*

In 500 words or less (Not including the title) write a story about _A Blind Date with the Devil (or 'a' devil)._ Obviously, this is your prompt to take wherever you want, as far as you want.
The River Styx is the limit.



Submissions may be posted in this thread right here, or in the *thread provided* in the Writer's Workshop.

If you wish to protect your first rights (in case you want to someday submit the work to a magazine or whatnot). Please remember to provide the judges with a link to your story in this thread. You can get your link by clicking on the number in the top right-hand corner of your post, then copying the link from the address bar.

So just to be clear. If you want to enter the LM Challenge and protect your first rights, what you do is post your entry in *the workshop thread* (in full—title, text and all), then click on the number in the top right-hand corner of your post, copy the link from the address bar and post that link in_ this_challenge thread. 


Everyone is welcome to participate. 
Judges are welcome to participate but their entries cannot receive a score.

Submissions will be accepted until midnight my time (+18, I think), Monday August 30th.
(To be safe, anyone not in Australia should aim to get it in by late on Sunday the 29th, or early Monday the 30th).

Get on it.

Your judges for this round are:
Dreamworx
SoNickSays
Eluixa
and Me



*No comments please - Only competition entries to be posted in this thread.*​


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## Bruno Spatola (Aug 15, 2010)

*http://www.writingforums.com/writer...d-date-devil-workshop-thread.html#post1374717http://www.writingforums.com/writer...d-date-devil-workshop-thread.html#post1374717*


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## funnygirl (Aug 22, 2010)

What a great subject matter, I would have loved to have written a longer piece.


IN LIMBO

“You’re disappointed aren’t you?”

“Not at all, it’s just a lot to process that’s all. One minute I’m throwing myself face first off the local water tower and the next I’m in limbo, awaiting my fate.”

“Don’t forget on the date of your life!”

“Yes…” I answered slowly. So far my time in limbo had varied from confusion to fear to currently general awkwardness. The shock of death was topped by the discovery that on arrival in limbo I neither qualified for heaven nor hell. An investigation into my life was currently underway. So when a somewhat nerdy looking male announced himself to be the devil and requested a ‘date’ I quickly consented, aware that there was a 50-50 chance he could literally make my life a living hell.

“I don’t really date much; the job keeps me so busy.” He said.

“What with all the tortures and stuff.”

“No, as if I’d have time for that! I spend my days processing millions of people. I swear I spend more time in limbo picking up all the poor souls than anything else. All my time at home is spent under a mountain of paperwork for upstairs. This wasn’t what I had in mind when I applied for the job.”

“Wait, you apply to be the devil?”

“Oh yes” he said taking a gulp of wine. “100 year contract, it’s one of the worst jobs around. A glorified file clerk and babysitter, that’s why the ‘fear clause’ was written in, No one would want to do it if it didn’t have the reputation with it. Ruler of the underworld and all that.”

“So why did you... umm... apply?”

He looked at me seriously for a moment, perhaps deciding whether or not to tell me the truth. “The angels picked on me.”

“The angels…”

“Yes okay” He cut me off forcefully “Gabrielle and his mates, all think they’re so cool. I just had to get out of heaven and I thought, well, little Satanist honeys are hot. So I got the job, I was the only applicant. What a joke it turned out to be though I never have time to fraternize with the souls. I had a kinda girlfriend for a while; I think she thought she’d get some standing in hell. She dumped me for a rapper as soon as she realized that wasn’t the case. She did often help me with the books though” He thought for a second. “How are you with numbers?”

“Terrible” I stated, looking around the room, willing them to hurry with the decision on my fate; anything had to be better than this.

“Oh” he said, visibly disappointed

Just then a tall, good looking angel appeared before them “Gerald” he said nodding towards the devil. “Lucked out this time mate, this little piece belongs upstairs.”

Thank God, literally. I tripped off into the blinding white light with the blonde Adonis as Gerald call after me “My contract runs out in 60 years, see you then yeah?”


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## defenestrator (Aug 25, 2010)

A bit short, but I couldn't think of how to extend it without it getting boring.

*******

*Charmed, I'm Sure*

We sat there in comfortable silence, the devil and I. He had his glass of wine, and I my slimming green tea. A plate, piled high with chocolates, sat on the table between us, conveniently ignored. 

There was no awkwardness for a blind date - he simply smiled beguilingly at me, and began a conversation. We spoke of many things, both inconsequential and consequential, ranging from the weather (“The flooding in Peru was quite exciting, don’t you think?”), to work (“I sent a boss up to a major American firm last week, and he’s doing quite well”), and even life itself (“You just need to remove the meaning, really”).

He was a smooth talker, witty and amusing, and I found myself carried away by his words. During a contemplative lull, he proffered the plate of chocolates. I took a chocolate out of habit, and we continued to talk. 
The two of us went on late into the night, long after the wine and the tea had run out. He was ever the gentleman, holding out the plate for me each time I finished a piece, but never letting his actions intrude on what was an engaging conversation. 

When , at last, the candles had burned out, the plate emptied, and I grew weary, he smoothly ended it with a promise to meet again. He stood up, and bowed slightly before he left.

Reflecting on it when he had gone, I had to admit I was surprised that the devil could provide such pleasant entertainment, enough that the hours had flown past without a second thought. He'd even had the social grace to serve a lady as the situation asked. It was only then that I realised – the whole night, though he was always in control of the plate… he hadn’t eaten a single chocolate.


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## alanmt (Aug 26, 2010)

*Myself Am Hell  500 words  Warning:  adult language, sexual themes*

*Myself am Hell*

Blind date tonight. Thanks, mommy dearest. Hopefully, she's hot and fun. Not that hotness really matters. I'm not into girls. 

Yeah, I'm closeted. But I'm not giving up my fucking inheritance to prove some kind of point. So I have dates now and then. Even girlfriends, for a while. "Ken has such bad luck with women," my poor mom says. Her goddamn cancer's in remission. So I have to go on another date. Pathetic weakling cancer cells. Get to work, dammit!

Mom's on a fundie kick, so its black slacks, white shirt and tie tonight. Old school. I look like Trey Parker on mission. Still damn good-looking, though.

I hope the Audi is not too much. The convertible would definitely be too flashy.

* * *

"Nice car," she says.

"I know, right?" 

She's kinda cute. Or would be, if she wasn't so serious. And knew how to dress. My God. WTF is that vest thingy?

"You look great!" I say with a falsely innocent cheerfulness. She blushes.

"Thank you. You do too!"

OMG. She's almost too nice. Poor thing. 

"Have you eaten at Main D'or before?" I ask. Five star restaurant. The chef was a guest judge on Top Chef once. The waiters are hot and easy, just like the food.

"No," she says, "Isn't it . . . expensive?"

"Yeah, I only eat there on special occasions," I lie. "Like meeting you."

Another blush. I might have to keep a running tally.

* * *

"It all looks so good," she mumbles, lost.

"Try the Capon Pot-au-Feu," I suggest kindly, "My mom says it is heavenly."

"What is that?"

"Chicken Stew. Really good chicken stew."

"Mmmm. That sounds nice."

We order. She crinkles up her little nose as the waiter leaves.

"Do you think the waiter's gay?" she whispers, disapprovingly.

Gay as Elijah Wood in a net shirt, I think, remembering the time I took him for a ride.

"Could be," I whisper back, "But I prefer to focus on making me a better person, rather than dwell on other people's sins."

* * * 
I glance at my phone. The text is from Tyler, sitting four tables away with his fat sister.

_Nice beard, fucker. _

I look at the girl.

"So sorry, an emergency at the Abused Children's Home."

I text back.

_STFU! Bathroom in 2 minutes._

I apologize profusely.

"I have to call, it will take ten minutes, staff problem - I need to make sure the kids are taken care of."

"Go," she says. Understanding. Admiring.

Tyler is one hot bitch. Eleven minutes of frenzied bathroom sex and a quick wash-up later, I walk back to the table.

"All handled."

"Those kids are lucky to have you," she says. "You're a great guy."

I'm the Devil.

"Thank you," I say modestly. "But enough about me, tell me more about you."

She's a really nice girl.

I might have to date her for a month or two. Make mom happy before she croaks. Hahahaha. As if!


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## Mike (Aug 27, 2010)

*Wilting Flower*

His smile pulls at her like a broken ripcord. And all she can do is stare, blind in her freefall.

“Are you all right?” he asks, his deep voice sweet and unintentional like creamed honey on polished brass.

“I’m sorry, what?” She blinks. Pink fuchsias whisper to bladed daphnes. Her left hand crushes a clutch of rosemary. She finds herself blushing.

“I’m looking for something…special,” he says. His black eyes flirt to the daffodils and then back to her. “Something unique.”

“What’s she like?”

“Who?”

“Whoever you’re buying these for.”

“She’s like you,” he replies. “Dark, beautiful, mysterious. Her eyes are tinted glass, I can’t see what moves beneath. It’s…it's an intoxicating phenomenon.”

She doesn’t respond. The pulse in her neck beats faster.

He steps closer, his gaze straying along her body. “She’s about your size. Amazing tits, long slender legs, and an ass that looks fucking great in jean shorts.”

She shivers as her back brushes up against the cold brick wall. She wipes her palms on her jean shorts. She refuses to look at him.

“Am I making you nervous?”

“Yes,” she says simply, truthfully.

“Let me take you out for dinner tonight.”

“I…I don’t know.”

“I’ve been here before, you know. I’ve seen how you look at all those men who buy boring, old roses for their girlfriends, their wives, their lovers.... Don’t you ever tire of it? Don’t you want someone for yourself? Someone who will buy you flowers?”

Her mouth is dry, her throat sticks to itself as she swallows. She’s never been so thirsty.

“What time do you finish work?” he asks.

“S…Seven,” she whispers.

“I’ll return then.”

He walks out before she can stop him, before she can half shout that she doesn’t even know his name.

***​ 
Lavish dishes litter the table. Cigarette smoke mingles with jazz music. The restaurant is bathed in soft, warm light.

“That was delicious,” she sighs, leaning back.

He wipes the corners of his mouth. “Shall I order dessert?”

She furrows her eyebrows. “Yes,” she says. “Order something nice for me while I go visit the bathroom.”

He quirks an eyebrow. Her vision flutters as she stands. She bumps into a chair as she walks. She knows that he is staring at her. This thought makes her weak in the knees.

Her image is blurry in the mirror. She usually doesn’t drink this much, but tonight she doesn’t give a damn. She washes her face and wonders when she’ll kiss him.

“Miss me?” he says when she returns to a decadent cheesecake and a fresh glass of red wine.

***​ 
A slamming car door wakes her. Something cold and gritty presses against her temple. She opens her eyes to a gutter.

Footsteps slap on the asphalt behind her. Someone is yelling. The sound is faint, as if she were underwater. She struggles to move, and only then does she feel the pain, the acid burning in her neck, down along her shivering body, and in between her thighs.


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## k3ng (Aug 27, 2010)

Blind date with the Devil ( a suitable title I think. Very original on my part.)

'I'm sorry, but explain to me again - what on earth is this all about?'

'It's a long story.'

'Well give me the short version.'

'You know how my mum is a psychic, right?'

'Yeah, and?'

'Well, she got a little ring from the underworld -'

'The underworld uses phones?'

'I have no idea, but mum's never one to explain he techniques. Anyway, she said they requested for me.'

'Why you?'

'I don't know. Apparently I'm being called in for a date with the devil.'

'Wow.'

'Yeah, I know.'

'I thought the devil was a dude.'

'So did I.'

'Then is he, you know, up the chimney with a sweep?'

'What?'

'You know, batting for the other team?'

'I don't get what -'

'You know, gay!'

'You're just assuming the devil is a dude.'

'And you're assuming he, I mean she, is a hot gorgeous woman.'

'It's a fifty fifty chance. Besides, I haven't had a date in years.'

'And now you're going on a date with the devil, who could be gay.'

'I've been in worse situations.'

'You're incredibly upbeat about all this.'

'Hey, either way, it'll make a great anecdote. Either I dated the devil and he turned out to be a cuckoo, or I get a smoking hot date. And either way I'll be the only person who will ever say he's dated the devil.'

'You surprise me. Are you bi-curious by any chance?'

'Funny. Now help me get this tie on.'

'You know, for someone who wears a suit to work every day, you should really know how to tie your own neckties.'

'I use clip ons.'

'So where are you meeting the devil anyway?'

'At some Mexican place.'

'The devil's going public? That doesn't sound right.'

'What's not right about it?'

'Wouldn't he, I mean she, I mean it, look weird? It'll look so out of place.'

'Again, you're assuming the devil to be that red fellow with the horns and the trident and the tail, aren't you?'

'Well, how else does the devil appear?'

'Mum said she's wearing something special tonight.'

'Okay, I give up. Go and have your fantasy date with the devil. I don't want to know about it. I just wonder why you, of all people, get picked for a date with the devil.'

'Well, opposites attract.'

'I think you'll find that the opposite rings true this time around.'

'How so?'

'Maybe the devil only dates lawyers.'


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## Leyline (Aug 27, 2010)

*“...there is some sh*t i will not eat.”*​
_(with apologies to cummings)_​
_(498 words)_


“How’s the steak?” The devil asks, smiling. I’d call it a seductive smile, but this is the devil. Some things should go without saying.

I carve off a slice and pop it into my mouth. I chew, savoring it. “Perfect,” I admit. “Did you have anything to do with that?”

She doesn’t deign to answer, but that smile grows impossible. She manages to be cute, sexy, beautiful and  dangerous-looking, at the same time. And she has cherry red skin, a petite set of horns, and pointed ears. She had told me up front that she looked the way I wanted her to look. 

Yes, I’m a strange guy.

“So how come no one is pointing and screaming?” I ask, between bites of perfect steak.

“Because they see what they want to see,” she says, sipping her wine. She had ordered no food. I wonder if that means I’m a cheap bastard. Probably.

I finish the steak, push the plate away and sigh. The devil stands.

“So, friend, what’s your answer? Give me what I want and this,” - she makes an indecent movement with that indecently dressed,  indecently shaped body - “is yours to play with for twelve sweaty, juicy, fantasy fulfilling hours.”

I sigh, knowing I’m lost. “One question.”

She nods.

“What do you do with them?”

A puzzled look. “With what?”

“Souls. I’ve always wondered. What do you do with the souls you collect?”

She laughs, surprising me. “I don’t want your soul, silly.”

“Then what...?”

Her eyes gleam. “I want your _vote_.”

I just stare, astounded. She explains. “God, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, is a fool. Ever wonder why the whole world seems like a giant popularity contest? Because it is. It’s the only thing that matters in the end.” She chuckles, finishing her wine. “Really, you can’t blame him. Immortality is _such_ a bore. He’s been reduced to watching you pathetic critters for amusement. Up there in his heaven, his giant tub of popcorn...”

“Vote...for _what_? And why should _my_ vote matter?”

“President Of The World,” she says ,shrugging. “And it’s not just you. I’m simultaneously on a blind date with the entire human race. All of it. Some want dead relatives returned, some want their pets given immortality.” Her eyes sparkle. “Some are much more fun, like you. But it has to be unanimous. Then I’m free from the Pit, ascended over the Earth, and the _real_ fun can begin.”

I’ve heard enough. I stand. I smash the plate from the table and toss down money for the bill.

“Stick it, bitch,” I say. 

Then I stalk off, leaving the devil astonished, more insulted than I’ve ever been in my life. The _nerve_!

I mean...a soul’s a soul. No biggie.

But _politics_? 

Cold day back home, baby.


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## garza (Aug 28, 2010)

The Man Called Changsai

1.

The boy Aron whistled softly to himself as he threaded between the bamboo cocktail tables in the half-light of the bar. Angaraka sat at a back table. Aron approached with hands together and bowed.

'Hello Angaraka. The man called Changsai say you come now.'

'Hello Aron. Who is Changsai? Why should I see him?'

'Changsai can make you rich. He knows the way.

'Then you should follow his way and become rich.'

Aron stood quiet for a moment and studied the tall Englishman with blond hair and a Thai name. No emotion showed on Aron's face. 

'I am too young and too small. When I am tall and strong Changsai will show me the fields with the flowers that make many men stupid and a few men rich. You want to be rich. Come with me to Changsai.'

2. 

They met in a loft over a warehouse near Bangkok harbour. Changsai, a head shorter than his guest, motioned Angaraka to a chair. 

'I came because of Aron,' said Angaraka. 'He's run my errands for a couple of months now and I can trust him. But I've never heard of you.'

'Yes you have,' said Changsai. 'in Cambodia they told you of a man called Oudóm. You came to Bangkok to find him. Now you have.'

'You are the one the Khmer call Oudóm, First Man?'

'In England I would be called Adam. In every country I have a name.' He turned to the boy. 'Aron, tell Feng to give you a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.'

'You've been asking around about how to make a connection. That can be dangerous. I am the one who sent Aron to run errands for you. My proposal is that you invest with me.'

'How do you know I have money to invest?'

'You have over 30 thousand pounds of embezzeled currency, good English banknotes. I have product to sell.  For your 30 thousand pounds I can supply you with product worth over a million on the street in London.'

Aron returned with a whiskey bottle and two glasses. 

'Thank you, Aron. Pour my guest some whiskey. Are the glasses washed?'

'I did that myself.' 

'A toast to our partnership.' Changsai lifted his glass in a salute and drained it off at once. The Englishman did the same. 

'Now let us get down to business,' said Changsai. 

'I'm not ready to decide anything tonight.'

'Oh, but you've already decided. You settled the issue when you came here with Aron. All we have to do now is settle the details. Are you listening? Quickly, Aron.'

Aron jumped forward and caught the glass just as it dropped from the Englishman's hand. 

'Thank you Aron. Be careful with that glass. Now run your errand.' 

3. 

Aron whistled softly to himself as he led the policeman along the alleyway.

'Just there.' He pointed.

The policeman shined his light on the body. 

'Who found him?'

'A man called Changsai. He is gone now.'


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## ppsage (Aug 29, 2010)

*Genus: Dateous terribulous*


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## Like a Fox (Aug 30, 2010)

Alright! That's it, great work guys.

Now it's time for the judges to decide.


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