Thursday, February 7, 2013

Deal With The Devil



Going through some old files a few days ago, I came across a short story I wrote for my high school English class that I had not read in 20 years. In November 1993 I was a senior in high school, and in my English class we watched the movie Crossroads (1986) starring Ralph Macchio, which is loosely influenced by the old legend of Blues guitarist Robert Johnson and his infamous deal with the devil. Following the film, we were assigned to write our own story with the title "Deal With The Devil", one page in length. 

Around that time my uncle owned a rare Buick Regal Grand National that we would take to New Hampshire to race, and since it was a car I wanted for myself, I based my story on it. Also, on one occasion on our way to New Hampshire my uncle was pulled over by a police officer for speeding, and because he had a suspended license they arrested him; this also played a role in my story.

I ended up getting an A+ for the paper, with comments throughout like "Beautiful!" and "This is great!" Now I see it as a bit amateurish and funny and it sort of reads like a Twilight Zone episode with a moral twist ending, but I offer it here for fun to give my readers a glimpse of something I wrote 20 years ago before the days of the internet.

I should also mention that it was this same English teacher who later accused me of plagiarizing and gave me an "F" grade on my final paper, which was a critique of The Origin of Species by Charles Darwin. When I proved that I had not plagiarized, she gave me an "A+" with a note that said: "I hope one day to read your books!"


Deal With The Devil

By John Sanidopoulos

November 5, 1993

One day as I was riding my rusty old bicycle to school I beheld the most beautiful and coolest car I had ever seen in my life. It was a polished black Grand National with gold hub caps and bumpers and extra thick tires. I guess the real beauty of the car was how it remained so smooth as it accelerated down the street. I imagined myself riding in that car to school instead of riding on my old beat-up rusty bike. My heart burned with covetousness.

When I got home that day I saw that same Grand National stop in front of my house and a man getting out of the car and coming towards my house. I heard a knock on my door. I answered. It was a man dressed like a car salesman and he told me that he would give me the Grand National if only I would give him all the rights to my soul. He handed me the keys and laughed hysterically and walked away, still laughing. Taking the keys I headed for the car.

Excitedly I got in the car and put the keys in the ignition. The car drove so smoothly that you could be driving at thirty miles-per-hour and feel like you're driving at ninety miles-per-hour. Or maybe I was fooled. All of a sudden I heard a police siren behind me. I pulled over. The officer said I was driving at ninety on a thirty mile-per-hour road. The speedometer, I discovered, was set at minus sixty miles-per-hour. He then found out I had no license. After writing down the license plate number he discovered it was the President's stolen car. I got really scared. The police officer then took me to the police station and locked me up in jail. The next day I was brought to court and was found to be guilty. I was ordered six months in jail.

After being released from jail I found a job at a gas station. I worked there three years and raised fifty-thousand dollars and bought myself a Grand National better than the one I had seen three and a half years prior.

One day I saw the man who had purchased my soul and brought disaster to my life pull up to my gas tank with that same stolen car. I demanded that he give the rights of my soul back to me. He said that only if I beat him in a car race would he give me back the rights to my soul. I immediately stepped into my car and we drove to a long open road. When we came to a traffic light we both stopped.

The race was going to be only a hundred yards long. The green light came on and we both accelerated. The only thing I remember after that was the smell of burned rubber and the sight of a lot of smoke. He beat me within a matter of seconds.

I immediately died and went to Hell. I saw the man who was driving the Grand National approach me and he revealed to me that he was the devil. I immediately fell down and wept and realized that if only I had given my soul fully to God I would have been much better off in Paradise.

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