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Slightly Wrong, Always Write.
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An artistic place for the delightfully deranged.
My Light, My Love, My Happiness
It all started back in high school when I was what you might call a bit of a nerd. I mean, I got straight A's right across the board, but I never met any of the cool people, I never went to any of the parties and nobody really liked me. That was okay, though, because I had my school books, my science projects and the teachers' respect.
When I applied to colleges I had my pick of the best engineering schools in the country and I chose one that had graduated some of the top scientific minds in the world.
Everything went great until the day I met her.
Her name was Lumesia. It's Japanese-African-Dutch. Loosely translated it means "she who rarely showers." Ah, Lumesia! Sweet, stinky Lumesia. She was so beautiful with the sleep caked on her eyelashes beneath her horn-rimmed bifocals and the acne she had that curiously resembled the Eiffel Tower with all its rusty girders. Ah, Lumesia! Exotic, aromatic Lumesia. I knew I'd never have a chance with this bovine beauty unless I had some help. So, in accordance with a strict Catholic upbringing, I prayed my butt off. Nothing. I fasted too, but still nothing. I even let my studies suffer, I got an A minus on a test for the first time in my whole life, but before I totally flunked out of school I decided to give up this nonsense and started drinking milk again.
I figured I might as well give up on women, I even considered giving up on life--I mean it, I really tried to kill myself. I had it all planned out too, I'd drop a plugged-in blow dryer into a full bathtub and let electricity do its work, but just my luck before I could get in it slipped out of my hand and shorted out the dorm. I couldn't do anything right. I probably shouldn't have used so much bubble bath.
And that's when I thought of the devil. After all, God wasn't doing me much good, so one night after writing out a will where I left everything to Lumesia I got up on my bed and said, in all seriousness, "I'd gladly rent out my soul for a chance with Lumesia." Nothing. So I went for the gusto and said, "Okay, I'll sell my soul." And that's when he appeared.
He wasn't anything like I'd expected. I always pictured the devil in red tights, with horns and a pitchfork, but this guy looked just like the Pope. I guess it makes sense, I mean what better occupation for the Lord of sin and corruption than the leader of the entire accumulated wealth and spirituality of the Catholic world? But I wasn't planning on discussing theology, I had a mission. So I asked him what I could get for a used, but still in fairly good condition, soul. He told me that he preferred to call them "pre-owned."
He said that souls were doing real well on the black market nowadays and I could get pretty much anything I wanted for one, so I told him what I wanted. "I want my darling Lumesia." He just looked at me and laughed. "What's so funny?" I asked, a little miffed.
"Kid, that's it? A girl? All you want is one girl? Wouldn't you rather have wealth and immortality?" He coaxed, but I'm wise to him. Never ask the devil for wealth and immortality because he find some way to trick you into giving up your wish like getting you buried alive in horseshit or something. He's a sneaky bastard. You have to be very precise and give lots of detail so he can't find a loophole. So I thought about it until I had it set in my mind exactly what I did want.
"I want to be popular." I told him, "and not just with the nerds and the geeks, but with the cool people. I want to be attractive enough to be able to make girls do things they never thought they would and powerful enough to have guys make fools of themselves. I want to be the life of the party--I want it all." And with that I crossed my arms across my chest and waited for my wish to come true.
With a big old smile the devil looked at me and said, "Let me see if I got this straight. You want to be popular and powerful especially among the cool people and you want to be the life of the party. Is that all?"
"Yeah, that should do it." I told him.
"Well, what about Lumesia?" he asked.
Oh, crap.
"Oh, yeah." I said. "Lumesia. Well, you see, the thing about that is, I mean, Lumesia's a great girl and all, but she's just barely--or not quite enough, I mean she's--"
"--Better off with someone without all the social responsibilities you're likely to have." He offered.
"Exactly." I agreed.
"How about this," he went on, "I'll make it so the hottest girl in school is your plaything, not just that but you'll be the light of her life."
"Light of her life. That's good!" I had to say.
"Thanks, I've had a little practice. So, if that's everything--"
"Wait!" I interjected, "I might need to go to another school for a girl like that."
"Naturally." He said.
"And I don't just want this chick to like me, I want to be, like you said, the light of her life."
"Light of her life, I know, I got it." He looked ready to go.
"Just one more thing." I told him. "Can I have a mirror over my bed so I can see the new me as soon as I wake up?"
"Sure thing, kid." And with that he disappeared. So, I went to bed dreaming of what I'd look like come morning. I imagined myself to be big and barrel-chested with strong features and attractive attire. I tried to stay awake to watch the transformation, but that was not to be and I quickly nodded off.
When I awoke the next morning the sun was shining across the bed and I got a glimpse of the new me. That son of a bitch. Sure, I'd be popular--even powerful, but I said Light of her Life! Not Bud Lite!!