Devil In Her Eyes

Two days ago, I ate dinner at Harry's house. This in itself was not monumental; in fact, it was relatively commonplace. I left later than I intended to, but this was not unusual either; in fact, the only things that were unusual were the fact that my ipod stubbornly refused to work and the speed with which the train arrived. I was all grunged-out; I had on jeans, red duct tape Converse Chucks, a red backpack, a denim jacket, a black sweatshirt, and a Russian/German (?) Naval Captain's hat. I felt very average, in fact.

I had been sitting peacefully beneath my headphones for a few stops before someone unusual, monumental and un-average walked on. He was about six foot four or five and accompanied by a girl in red Converse Chucks, jeans, a denim jacket, a black sweatshirt and a black newsboy's cap with shoulder-length brown hair. His head was shaved completely, and he wore a black taylored suit. Red ruffled sleeves protruded from the neat body of the suit. His entire head was painted a vivid red color, and two wax horns, each about two inches long and deliciously tapered, extended upwards from his temples. I smiled at them from my habitual corner, actually letting a "Ha!" escape before resettling myself to pretend to ignore him (an impossible feat).

I was still wearing my headphones, even though the ipod was frozen, so I suppose they didn't know that I could hear them. I couldn't, at first, because they were whispering; eventually, though, the tones of their voices were raised to a level audible from my corner.

"Give it to her!" the girl hissed.
"No!"
"Why not?"
"Because!"
"Because what?"
"Because she's attractive, OK?"
"So?"
"So... so!"
"So what? Give it to her!"
"Fine!"

On cue, I stood up to wait for my stop (the next one). The tall devil stood up nervously, shuffling from foot to foot, and finally presented me with two matchbook-sized pamphlets.

"God Is Fake," I read.

He grinned. I grinned back.

"I like it."

The doors opened. I walked off and headed for my entrance. As the train left, he waved, and I waved back. This goes in the one-act, I thought.

"Mom--" I said excitedly, unlocking the door--"I just met this guy dressed like a devil on the subway with this girl who looked like me. He gave me a flyer that said 'God Is Fake'."

"V, you know better than to talk to strangers! Now get in bed."

The phone rang. It was Matt.

"Hey, man, the wierdest thing just happened to me... I met the devil on the subway."

"V, get off the phone and go to bed! It's late!"

Somehow I think she missed the point.