It has been said the history of Halloween is pure evil. As the story goes, “Ye cannot drink the cup of the Lord, and the cup of devils. Ye cannot be partakers of the Lord's table, and of the table of devils."

 

But can we use the devil as an excuse for our questionable behavior as we celebrate the holiday, or at other times?  Some say, “Yes.” As such, as an explanation for their actions, they employ the statement . . .

 

 

The Devil Made Me Do It

 

     Have you ever been to a Halloween party with the motif, “The Devil Made Me Do It”? Well, neither have I. But that’s the theme of the party I’ve been invited to this coming Saturday evening. And I have to come in costume. I have two days to come up with something intriguing, but I don’t have a clue what to wear.

     Later in the evening, as I lay in bed, my eyes became heavy and I began to dream about the costume that would change my life and maybe win the heart of a beautiful woman at the party.

     Then I heard words I wanted to hear. “Dance with me. Dance with me,” a sexy voice murmured.

     I managed to stammer, "Yes," stunned by a beautiful woman dressed in black velour. The music played “Dancing With the Devil,” and we became the center of attention on the dance floor.  

     The rain beat down on the roof of my house. The dogs barked in the backyard. My dream interrupted, I muttered to myself, “No way.”

     Sometimes things don’t go right. So I pulled the covers back over my head, hunkered down, closed my eyes, and tried to go back to sleep. Smash, crash, the tumbling garbage cans and squealing truck tires shook me from my trance. I cursed under my breath, “Why now? The damn 6:00 a.m. trash pick-up.”

     I rolled out of bed, threw on the soiled clothes I’d laid on top of the hamper last night, and ambled down the hallway toward the kitchen, with Little Grace. Where Grace had come from, I didn’t know. Swift and silent, she appeared under foot when least expected. Awkward in my movements, I stumbled over her. I staggered to my left and then my right, careening off one wall and then the other. I bounced through the hallway like a ball out of control. I struggled, trying not to fall—each dance move no better than the preceding one. It amazed me how I was able to remain upright.

     Entering the kitchen, I spun around and then planted my feet without tipping over. It was quite a sight to behold. The day had just begun and already my life had become chaotic.

     Regaining my composure, I stared, with a blank expression on my face, at a woman standing before me, with Little Grace, tail wagging, at her side. I looked in amazement at this beautiful creature. Where the “hell” did she come from? I thought.

     I started to ask her, when she grinned and quipped, “Well, that was some entrance you made—one ‘hell’ of a funky ride.”

     Not knowing how to reply, I thought my best strategy would be to keep a straight face and my mouth shut. Her beauty was beyond any I’d ever seen. Her gorgeous smile caught me off guard and made me blush. She fluttered her eyelashes, draping over her deep green eyes, and whispered, “Your place or mine?”

     “Wow! What an offer,” I shouted. I wanted to tell her how I felt about her, but I didn’t have the guts.

     “I’m all you’ll ever need—the woman of your wildest fantasy. Follow me and I will fulfill your every desire,” she chanted, in a most seductive manner.

     Dressed in black velour, this charming creature, the woman from my dream, took my mind on a wild trip. She fascinated and tantalized me. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

     Then, without warning, Big Burt came rumbling through the doggy door. He jumped on me with amazing force. I lost my balance and began to fall, first grabbing for the chair and then the kitchen wall.

     The luscious damsel, who had captured my heart, giggled, as she watched me in the midst of another ungraceful event. I managed to recover, but it wasn’t pretty. I thought hard about putting my tail between my legs and hightailing it out of the kitchen, but I didn’t.

     Then, if I hadn’t been embarrassed enough already, what came next almost destroyed whatever self-respect I still had. Big Burt decided I needed his help and, standing erect, he placed his front paws on my shoulders and, like the leader in a dance duo, pushed me across the dance floor. Uproarious laughter from my audience drove my embarrassment to new heights.

     Now, I was sure I should flee this kitchen inferno. However, leaving would not extinguish the burning fires of my personal hell. So shoving Big Burt aside, I decided to stand my ground. This was one battle I was going to win.

     Gathering up all the courage I could muster, I expressed my feelings, “I must admit I’m falling hard for you.”

     “That you are, my little man. I almost had to pick you up off the floor,” she chuckled.

     This remark almost made me give up the fight. Whatever pride I had left was gone. But I didn’t. My voice echoed through the kitchen. “I need you. I want you.” 

     I’d fallen under her spell. She beckoned me to follow her. Her wish was my command. I danced to the tune she played, twirling in circles, which spun me into the dark web she wove.

     Her voice sung out, “Come close. Hold me. Let me embrace both your heart and soul. Dance with me.” 

     I managed to stammer, "Yes,” stunned by this beautiful woman dressed in black velour. The music played “Dancing With the Devil” and we became the center of attention on the dance floor.

     Just as I believed I’d gotten everything I’d ever wanted, my alarm clock blared. At first, I ignored it. But then, I forced myself to open my eyes. “Oh my, I’m going to be late for work,” I groaned. I rolled out of bed. My mind raced, as I got ready. What an amazing dream. I hoped, someday in some way, my fantasy would become reality.

     Later that day, at work, I walked toward Bridgette Cumming’s office on the tenth floor of the Western Washington Insurance Company building, where I was employed as an insurance claims adjuster. I stared at her through the office’s large plate glass window. She was the boss’s daughter, the company accountant. Dressed in a form-fitting, black, low-cut dress, she looked exquisite—the woman I wanted to fulfill my deepest desires.

     I sucked in my stomach, puffed out my chest, and knocked on the door. Through the glass window, she motioned to me to come in. I opened the door, threw my shoulders back, held my head high, and tripped over Little Grace, her Persian cat, who had scampered between my legs. I lost my balance and began to fall, first grabbing for the chair in front of her desk and then the office wall. For stability, I was at a loss. Bridgette giggled, as she watched me in the midst of this awkward incident.

     Picking myself up off the floor, I placed the claims folder, I’d been holding, on her desk. Then without saying a word or making eye contact, I hurried out of her office, vowing never again to put myself in such an embarrassing, hellish position. I muttered to myself, “The devil made me do it.”

     The next morning, sunlight peering through the shutters awakened me. Stunned, I screamed, “Nothing ever works out the way I want it to.”

     She was gorgeous, oh, so gorgeous, in a devilish way. In my dream, she wanted me, even though I made a fool of myself. I gave her my heart and soul. But when it came to the real test at the office, life played a cruel trick on me. I felt like I’d sunk into the depths of purgatory. I work with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, but would I ever have the courage to let her get to know me?

 

 

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