It wasn’t the first time that Patrick had found himself lost in a parking lot. He sighed as he walked back to the elevators to retrace his steps, carrying his briefcase with him. He knew he had parked on this level, or at least, he thought he had. Was it the blue level or red level? Which one looked familiar? He couldn’t remember clearly. He just hadn’t paid attention when he had arrived at the convention center. He tried to focus. He remembered that he had parked soon after turning a corner, and then had walked across the parking garage to the elevators. If he was working backwards, he should go towards the far left corner. He started walking in that direction, feeling a little silly at the amount of time he had already wasted just wandering around. He wondered if the security cameras were focusing on him, perhaps the guards were suspicious of him by now. He felt awkward and self-conscious.
As he reached the corner, he looked anxiously at the line of parked cars to see if his white Toyota Camry was among them. But he was disappointed when it wasn’t there. He grimaced. What should he do now?
He turned to look back towards the elevators. Should he retrace his steps? Again? Why did this sort of thing always happen to him, he wondered. Some of the convention attendees had just gotten out of the elevator. They were excited after the convention and were talking amongst themselves. They found their car and within minutes, were driving out of the parking garage. Patrick groaned and looked around desperately. Now the security guards would be coming for him for sure, he imagined.
“Sucks to be lost, eh?”
The voice came out of nowhere. It was behind him, very close. Patrick swung around, startled. The owner of the voice was a short, small man in a very bright red suit and glittery tie. Even his shirt was red. He was leaning on a cane, and his jet black hair was combed back, slick with oil. He had that smarmy, used-car salesman demeanor. Patrick looked at him in amazement. Where did this bizarre creature come from, and how did he sneak up on him so fast?
“I’m not lost, I – uh,” Patrick mentally considered the alternatives, trying to pick the most plausible excuse. “I was just thinking about going back into the convention center, I think I missed some of the booths.”
“Ah, lying, yes, one of my favorites. Little white lies, to be precise. That’s how it all starts. I love it. It’s how I get the most new converts.”
“Excuse me?”
“Why, my dear Patrick, don’t you recognize me?”
“How do you know my name?”
“I know everyone’s name. But don’t you know mine?”
“Uhm?” Patrick gave a helpless look and shrugged.
The man gave an exasperated look. “How come everyone knows Him, but I always have to introduce myself? It’s me! Beelzebub. Lucifer. The prince of darkness. Satan. The devil!”
Patrick stood for a moment processing the man’s absurd claims. Then he laughed.
“What are you, like, just out of the psych ward? I mean, I know this is LA, but, dude, come on!”
The man stamped his foot angrily. “Damn it all to Hell! Why doesn’t anyone ever believe me the first time!”
Patrick shrugged. “I dunno, maybe it’s ‘coz you’re built like a garden gnome and dress in a bad Halloween costume?”
“I should prove it to you.” Satan was indignant.
“Actually, I gotta find my car, but thanks anyway.”
Patrick turned away from the man in the red suit, muttering under his breath, “Nutjob.”
“You will never find your car!” Satan pronounced, “you will be stuck in this parking garage indefinitely. This will be your Hell!”
“Yeah yeah whatever,” replied Patrick, mildly annoyed at Satan now. He walked away, feeling a little disturbed. Why did he always run into the psych cases?
After another fifteen minutes of random guessing, he finally decided to walk through the entire garage, row by row, checking each parked vehicle to see if it was his. He began at the corner near the elevators and started walking. This was going to take a long while, but it was better than guessing and estimating, which had yielded no results. And so he began his long walk.
There were so many kinds of vehicles. It was so interesting to see all the different makes and models. Any other day, he would have been fascinated by the variety. But now he was tired, and he just wanted to go home and take a nap. All this walking was exhausting work. He passed by several luxury vehicles, and more than one black Mercedes. He lingered a few moments to admire each Mercedes before moving on. It was one of his favorite cars. Some day, he thought to himself, I would like to have one of those.
It seemed like an eternity, but he finally reached the opposite corner of the parking lot. And he had not seen his car. He groaned. So he was on the wrong level after all! Grinding his teeth in frustration, he headed towards the elevators.
“This is just the beginning.” Satan was leaning against a pillar just in front of him. Patrick scowled at him.
“I told you to get lost,” he said brusquely as he walked past him, without slowing down. But Satan only smirked.
“The only way you’ll get out of here is if you talk with me,” he said smugly.
Patrick ignored him and headed for the elevators. Back to the first level. He employed the same procedure as before and walked through all the rows of parked cars, checking each one individually. His car had to be on this level. He walked faster now, with more urgency in his step. He felt that the crazy man in the red suit was following him. Some of these crackpots could actually be dangerous. He wanted to be out of here as fast as possible.
When he reached the far corner and still hadn’t found his car, he was confounded. What was going on?
“I told you, you will never get out of here unless you talk with me.” Satan once again appeared, this time he was sitting on the trunk of a Cadillac.
Patrick sighed. “Okay, where is my car?” he asked, sighing in exasperation.
“Why, upstairs, of course,” replied Satan with a self-satisfied smile.
“I checked upstairs, it’s not there.”
“Maybe you need to look again.”
“Maybe you need to leave me alone!”
“Okay, how about this. You like those black Mercedes, don’t you? Why not drive off in one of those?”
“What? They’re not mine! I don’t own them, and I can’t just drive off in any car I choose!”
“Oh, since you mention it, why not choose any car?”
“Huh?”
“Look!”
Satan waved his arm and all of a sudden, every vehicle in the parking lot was a black Mercedes. Patrick blinked, not believing his eyes.
“Pick any one,” said Satan, “maybe that one?” He pointed at one of the cars; the engine started and the driver’s side door opened.
“All yours.” said Satan, “All you have to do is get in and drive out of here.”
Patrick glimpsed at the soft leather interior. It was the luxury vehicle that he had desired for decades. He felt a strong urge to walk up to it and get inside. He considered driving it home. He didn’t realize it, but as he was thinking about it, Satan was very close behind him, whispering inaudibly in his right ear.
He shook his head.
“No, I should get my own car,” he said finally, “I’m tired, and I just want to go home.”
“You can’t leave here. Not until I get what I want.”
“What do you want from me?”
Patrick was starting to feel fearful of the man in the bright red suit. He felt that there was some sort of sinister force at work here, and he wanted to be as far away as possible from it.
“Well, a piece of your soul would suffice. I don’t need your whole soul. I hate it how people dramatize things so much when telling stories about me, saying how I took a person’s entire soul. Pish tosh! That’s not how I work! Besides, it’s more profitable for me to have a piece of your soul.”
“You want a piece of my soul?”
“Quite simply put, yes.”
“Why?”
“Oh, consider it a little hobby of mine. You won’t even miss it! And, you get to go home immediately and rest. You’re pretty tired, aren’t you?”
Patrick’s legs hurt. The muscles in his back and shoulders ached. His eyes felt heavy and his feet were paining. His briefcase felt heavy and was causing his arm to hurt. He felt exhausted.
“So, what do you need to take a piece of my soul?” Patrick reluctantly asked, hesitating even as he did so.
“You could take the Mercedes.”
“I don’t think I really want that right now.”
“Fair enough. Then you can sign a contract.”
“Okay, that sounds a little better. But I don’t have a pen.”
Satan laughed. “It’s not that kind of contract. It has to be in blood.”
“Oh? How does that work?”
“I just need a drop of your blood. Right here.”
Satan produced a small parchment, unrolled it and held it out.
“Um, how am I supposed to--?” Patrick indicated his fingers, questioning how to draw blood.
“Use any sharp object,” Satan smiled gleefully, overjoyed at his victory.
Patrick nodded and took the parchment from Satan. It seemed old and very used. He walked a few steps and placed his briefcase on the trunk of a nearby car. Satan sat where he was, rubbing his hands in anticipation.
Patrick reached into his briefcase, hiding the view from Satan, grimaced, and then pulled out the parchment, now stained red with a few drops of blood.
He handed it to Satan while he wrapped his finger with a handkerchief. “Now can I go?” he asked.
“Of course! Of course!” Satan was the epitome of courtesy. With a flourish and a bow, he waved his arm, and there stood Patrick’s old Toyota Camry.
Patrick got into the car and started it up. Without looking back, he immediately drove for the exit. Once he reached the exit, he rolled down his window, paid the attendant, and then drove out into the street.
“I’ll be seeing you real soon,” the familiar voice of Satan came across on his car speakers.
“No you won’t, you stupid bastard,” said Patrick as he merged into the traffic. “For being the lord of the underworld, it’s amazing you’re so dumb!”
“What are you talking about?” the voice was shrill, harsh, filled with suspicion and panic.
“Don’t you know what convention I was attending? I’m a phlebotomist, we were doing skills labs and training. I have in my briefcase samples of the blood of several small animals. You just got a piece of the soul of a rabbit! So enjoy doing your evil work with the poor rabbit!”
There was a stunned silence, and then came an ear-piercing shriek. Patrick smiled to himself and pressed the accelerator to speed him on his way home.