Heart's Content

I was surprised at the demon's appearance. Not surprised at the fact that he appeared, because I summoned him with a very reliable spell. No, the surprise was how he looked. That’s what I meant by appearance. His was so normal. Normal for a demon, I mean. Rather cliche, I judged. So very… last millenium. You'd think the demon race would demand a makeover by now.

"Nice pitchfork," I greeted him.

He growled. I distinguished the words "damn human" in that rumble of a voice.

Well, obviously I'm going to be damned for this.

"Let's get down to business, shall we," I suggested.

He grunted. "Fame, fortune, love - ho-hum."

"None of those," I contradicted. "It's revenge I want.”

He sneered. "Probably just want him roughed up some."

"Once again you're mistaken, demon. I could have done that myself. What I want you to do is rip his body apart slowly, shred his skin, squash his organs to a pulp - that sort of thing."

I detected a flicker of interest in those soulless yellow orbs he uses for eyes.

"I trust you know your job,” I continued, “so dispose of the parts however you choose. I don't care about anything but the heart. Just bring it to me, intact.”

The Demon spat. Though I took that for assent, I wasn't going to risk any misunderstanding.

“Intact,” I repeated.

“Still beating,” he grinned.

“You know what Ben Franklin said.”

He looked confused.

“When a man dies, the last thing to stop moving is the heart,” I enlightened him.

He made a rude, dismissive gesture when I held out a piece of paper with name, address, cell phone, fax number and other relevant data. Then he disappeared amidst the same flourish of incarnadine smoke in which he had arrived.

I made a mental note that when I get to hell someday, I will approach the one in charge with a proposal for new costumes, special affects, and other such outer trappings. In fact, I thought, reaching for my sketch pad, I could make some preliminary drawings while waiting for the demon’s return.

Holding the pad at arm’s length, I admired my work. I rather take pride in my God-given artistic ability. Though my own heart had become now merely a mechanical object in my chest, I realized for the first time in a long while that life – and the Afterlife - still held possibilities for enjoyment.

What I was about to do with a heart, for instance, to my heart's content.