OP: A Short Story..

For everyone's approval, I submit the incredibly rough draft of my latest short story. I felt it definitely channeled a bit of Lewis and Williams in the themes. Please everyone, feel free to critique away.

“We Always Appreciate Your Business..”

It was approximately nine fifteen in the evening when my mid-life crisis began. There I was sitting on the couch, telling myself how banal everything was. How it could be so much better if I just got up off my lazy ass, got in the car, took a drive to see all those places I’d never imagined I’d ever get to see in my life, take a few pictures for friends to enjoy and eat a meal that would surely lead to increased risk of heart failure. And as I was just about to launch out of my chair and go forth on my new happy quest through life, the doorbell rang.

I stood with newfound conviction, strode to the door, and flung it wide open. To my surprise, it was a small statured man, wearing a lopsided fedora a size or two too large and two piece grey suit. Mister Magoo as a G-Man. I glanced up and down at him, nearly chuckling to myself before I caught the sound in my throat at my own amusing joke, and with barely constrained seriousness, I asked him who he was.

“Me? Doe. Ray Doe.”

I stared at him blankly, unsure of whether or not this was some sort of joke. Or at the very least, a door-to-door reenactment of the Sound of Music.

“I see, Mister.. Ray Doe, was it? And what can I help you with, sir?”

The man fidgeted slightly as though nervous. Obviously, he’d had little experience with these door to door things. I cleared my throat to give him a gentle nudge towards the matter at hand.

“Oh. Ahem. I’m, well, I’m here to collect you sir. You’ve figured it all out. And we have a strict policy of..”

I interrupted him harshly. Those words sounded oddly suspicious. Suddenly, this G-Man wasn’t nearly as comical as he’d original been.

“Collect me? Figured what out? Listen, is this some sort of unpaid parking ticket or something?”

The man rocked in his shoes, seeming a little braver now that he’d broken the ice. His fingers clenched themselves tightly, while this thumbs twiddled mindlessly. Still anxious, obviously, but when he spoke he was firmer, clearer. A studied sales pitch.

“Well, you see, sir. You’ve figured it all out. And that’s why I’m here. You’ve got the answer, and we’ve got a strict policy of not letting anyone share that answer with anyone else.”

“Listen, mister, I’m not quite sure what you’re selling, but I am quite sure I don’t want any of it. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I’ve just decided that I really need to see New Orleans before I die.”

The man grinned slowly, he’d obviously found something very funny.

“But that’s just it, sir. You’re going to die. And very soon too!”

Oh. Great. Door-to-door religion.

“Listen, I’ve already found Jesus. I.. just.. I’ve got to go. Goodbye!”

I grabbed for the brass of the knob and pushed it forward, meeting the heavy thud of Ray Doe’s boot.

“Sir, I’m not quite sure you understand. You’ve figured out the meaning of life. I can’t allow you to go on, you’ll spoil it for everyone else, soon everyone will be happy and there’ll be no point to living a mortal existence before the splendor of Heaven. You’ll bring the whole system crashing down!”

I paused a moment. Something about the little troll made me want to believe him. I backed down on the doorknob. He seized the moment and thrust it open, nearly knocking me down in the process. Strong little bugger.

“Look, Mister Doe. All I’ve decided is to make a few changes in my life. For the better. You know, relax a bit, have more fun in my life and to simply not stress out about things.”

Ray Doe looked up at me with a sincere gaze, his big saucer eyes looking right into me and speaking in his best pure, wonderful, bluebirds and cartoon bunnies Disney voice. “But that’s just it, sir, everyone wants to make those changes, but do you know anyone who’s ever actually done it? Waltzes around happy-go-lucky all the time, never doing anything at all but what they want and taking it all in stride?”

I paused a moment. The man had a point. The only kinds of people who’d ever managed to do that sort of thing were those celebrities. The glitz, the glam, the full nude expose on page four of the tabloids at the supermarket.

“Yeah”, he said, reading my mind, “Celebrities usually have to bargain their soul away for that. Which means not only do they only get a temporary bit of fun, they have all that added drama plus a bit of time in the fires of H-E-double-Ades, if you get my drift.”

I looked at him, stunned. Either he was absolutely out of his hobbity little head, or I was talking to a real live.. “Angel?”, I voiced with a great deal of uncertainty.

“Not quite, sir. There’s no such thing. Great stories, but you know how man loves mythical symbolism. You have a guy come down from a place in the heavens and everyone assumes he’s gotta have wings to take the divine elevator. Really, all you need is the penthouse key. Look, all of this is neither here nor there. I need you to come with me before you mess up the Boss’s plans.”

He held out his hand to take mine, which shook a bit as though cursed by a nervous twitch or possibly revulsion at the touch of a stranger. I hesitated, my mind still reeling over the revelation. I didn’t want to leave yet. Maybe there was something I could still do to get out of it.

“But I’m not ready yet. Can’t I.. just stay here?”, I asked. Now it was my turn to be the timid one.

“Well, usually no. However the Boss does have an installment plan worked out in case our customer base would like to purchase an extended time share on the mortal coil.”

Gone was the hestitation, the shyness from before. This was a cool, calculating businessman standing before me, having finally warmed up his pitch and throwing it low and slow. Something he knew I’d swing at.

“Yes. Yes, that. I’ll take it.” I said, repeating his words over and over in my mind. There had to be a loophole. These deals with devils always had some sort of damned, forgive the pun, loophole.

“The pun is forgiven. And I’m not a devil. They’re a lot better at this sort of thing. And they usually don’t stray out of the warmer places. Miami? Full of ‘em. Now, sir, this is a verbally binding contract, so I’d like you to once again affirm that you’re opting into an extended timeshare.”

He was speaking a mile a minute now, moving smoothly, the twitching nervous hand now withdrawn to smooth under his fedora across his oiled back hair. He gazed at me intently, his little eyes no longer blinking. Gone was the bumbling goon of only a little while ago, and now instead was nearly predatory, leaning forward to perch on my every word.

“Yes. Yes, of course. I agree to this timeshare thing. I’m not ready to die yet. A little more time, please.”

Ray Doe clapped his hands, the sound of which created a cacophony, not unlike the sound of a passing jumbo jet coming in low for its landing, contained all in one tiny instant.

“Very good then, sir. Now, I note this is your fifteenth extension. We’re always glad to have repeat customers. Please, enjoy the remainder of your life.”

The words drifted away dreamlike, misting at the very edges of my mind and suddenly I was standing alone in my doorway with little idea of how I’d gotten there. Confusion, anger, annoyance swept across my mind as I looked into the dim night, wondering who’s damned kids had been so inspired to play ding-dong-ditch at my doorway. The bulb flickered and popped into darkness, echoing my dismal mood as I closed the door and slumped back down on the couch. There I sat, pondering it all over – life was always so damned difficult. Always missing that one spark that everyone needed to make life just the smallest bit more pleasant, more exciting. I felt for a moment almost like the solution was there at the tip of my mind, ready to tip over before I grabbed the remote and switched the television off in disgust. Nothing on again. Best to just go to bed now before another day of unsatisfying work. More time wasted as I worked towards some dream I’d never have.

As I slowly trudged up the stairs, I pulled off my robe, and laid it across the foot of the bed, ready for tomorrow’s lukewarm shower before a dismally snowy drive on the way to work. It was then I noticed the indent on my pillow, glittering with a faint gold glow. Upon closer inspection, I found it to be a small, foil wrapped chocolate beneath which a small card lay. The card was alabaster, of the finest card stock with little scroll work music notes dancing across the border of the card. At its center, in elegant scroll was the signature of one Ray Doe. And there beneath it, dimly flickering in the little light of my room were the words, “Thank you for your stay. We always appreciate your business.”