Devilishly Good Dim Sum

DEVILISHLY GOOD DIM SUM (2004)

esculentus bona epulae

On 7 Wednesday July 2000, Theodore Carver met the Devil.

He was on the subway station nearest his work and the train was leaving smoothly, fed by 625 volts on the third rail.  Leaning over to tie his laces, he noticed that the man next to him lacked shoes.  Below the edge of the person’s finely-tailored gray pants a pair of hooves jutted like dual exclamation marks.

His gaze, which had been resting too long and uncomfortably on the hooves, returned to the billboard in front of him.  WELL CONNECTED, the sign said.  Morgan Stanley was the place to go for investment advice.

“Hello, Theodore,” the Devil said.  It had a very feminine voice.  “It is nice to meet you, finally.  This is my interpreter, Zara.”

Theo continued to look at the billboard, uncomprehending.  Morgan Stanley was his company’s competitor, and it was galling to be trapped inside a hurtling, rocking car and be forced to look at its advertisement.  He refused to acknowledge the hooves.

“Theodore, get off at the next stop, if you would,” the voice had been coming from the woman all along.

Theo quickly flicked his eyes to the pair, registering their appearance much as he would a column of numbers – quickly, methodically, and thoroughly.  The Devil was dressed in a business casual suit, with a red and black tie in a crisscrossing pattern.  The woman, Zara, was short compared to her client.  She was just above the height required to ride the Roaring Rusher at the traveling amusement ride troupe that went through his hometown every year.  His first kiss was on the Scrambler with Dorothy Elliott.  Theo remembered she tasted like bubblegum.

The Devil was moving his hands.  The woman said a little later, “Theodore?  Are you paying attention?”

Every time he has gum he remembers Dorothy.  Practically the whole school had seen them kissing, including Dorothy’s boyfriend.  The kiss was worth the dental cap he had to get the next day.

The train began to slow, and Theo prepared to exit.  He had indeed heard them, and would continue to ignore the situation as long as possible.  It had always worked for him.  Ignore the problem and it will go away.  Like the Tao Te Ching said:  a good man does nothing and leaves nothing undone.

The Devil and Zara followed him out, and prompted him to follow them up the stairs and onto the street.  Behind them, he continued the inventory of their appearance.  The woman was dressed in a red miniskirt and a black button-up shirt.  She walked with gusto, lifting her feet up high, like she had something terribly exciting to get to and just couldn’t wait.  The Devil seemed faintly familiar, and he could trace the echo of familiarity to somewhere in high school, but he could not pinpoint it.

-

When Theo’s girlfriend broke up with him by thrusting her shapely but hard knee into his flaccid and very sensitive testicles, Theo reacted well.  Doubled over, hurting, he still managed to croak out a “good night.”

Sadly, the empty metaphysical world that Theo inhabits does not have any contemporary conception of the evil or the Devil.  The year of the Dragon was without mythic substance.  As a result, Theo did not know how to react, did not know that the simplest way to ward the Devil off is to deny his existence with an act of will, the very ability that God gave Man.

-

They were sitting at Din Din, the first Chinese restaurant they came to on the street after exiting the subway.  The Devil and Zara sat on one end of the booth, and Theo was on the other side.  They reviewed the menus in silence.  Expectant smoke hung in the air.

When the waitress came, the Devil motioned to the menu and moved his hands again.  Curious despite himself, Theo watched carefully.  Zara then spoke while pointing at the Devil, “No food, please.  Thank you, Theresa.”

The Devil smiled, and his hands flickered again.  Zara looked at him and said, “Water, for my libation.”

The waitress stood there, puzzled, her mind apparently knocked senseless by the word ‘libation’.

“You mean you want a glass of water?”  Receiving affirmations from Zara, she pointed a pen.  “Whatcha want?”

“Nothing except water,” Zara said with a quiet giggle.

The Devil pats her arm and the three turn to Theo.

“Ah.  I haven’t really looked.  Yet.  I’ll have…uh…  Uh…”

Zara answered for him, after some movement from the Devil, “Theodore will have nothing as well, thank you.  Bring water also.”

The waitress left with a blank look on her face.  She was vaguely Asian, with a hint of the softness of Filipino ancestry.

“So, Theodore, do you know why I’m here?” the Devil signs.

Theo does not answer.  He refused to dignify this dream with actual spoken words.

“Theodore, I know what you are thinking,” Zara said after more movement from the Devil’s hands.  They flew all over the place, making shapes and patterns.  He has seen something like this before, and tries to pinpoint that connection.

Ah!  The Devil looked exactly like his 8^th grade History teacher.  He remembered the teacher dressed slovenly and looked as if he smoked pot before each class.  One day he was passing out books — “Book” sounded like “bawk” as the teacher handed out a textbook to each student.  He looked like a maddened and sloppy chicken with a hangover, bawk-ing at the students.

“Theodore, I might look like that teacher, but I am most definitely not him,” the Devil said.

Why was the voice coming from Zara and not the Devil?

“Theodore, I’d like to introduce again my interpreter.  Zara.  I am deaf and require her services as I cannot voice for myself.”

As suddenly as it came, Theo’s comprehension and the requisite adrenaline rush left him.  Feeling drained, he nods and croaked something unintelligible.

“Here, drink some water that our lovely waitress delivered to our table, just for you.”

Theodore drinks and clears his throat and says the first thing that comes to his mind.

“This water tastes like shit.”

-

Numbers marched to Theo’s command as a head accountant for Heath-Heath, an investment banking firm.  He does not recall ever meeting a deaf person.

“Theodore, listen carefully.  I’m going to tell you why I’m here,” the Devil says.  “Long ago, I was rather forcibly ejected from my previous occupation.  On the way down a mishap occurred in which certain hairs inside my ear got burned by the extreme heat.”

The Devil cocked his head and looked searchingly at Theo.  Zara continued voicing, “Ever since then, I’ve had to live with not being able to hear.  The screams of the damned do indeed fall on deaf ears.”

“This is where you come in, Theodore.  For millennia, I’ve searched for the person whose particular genetic makeup matches mine closely enough.”

“Closely enough for what?” Theo said carefully.

“Closely enough so that I could obtain their ears in a rather lucrative exchange.  I offer the world.”

Silence greeted the Devil’s words.  Theo looked around the restaurant, which suddenly seemed as if someone had thrown a blanket over a light.  The room seemed dim, and the few other occupied tables seemed much too far away now.

“I don’t think I understand,” he said while leaning back.

“Theodore, it is really very simple,” Zara voices.  They both look at him, the Devil watching carefully, Zara waiting for the next stream of signs from her client.

“I need your ears,” Zara finishes.

-

The singular occupation of Deviltry; Beelzebub, Lucifer, and Satan, must indeed be fraught with difficulties if evil incarnate cannot hear.  The Devil’s presence in modernity (i.e. circa 2000) has dwindled to caricature and rough jokes, in stark contrast with its powers – even recently.

After a fifteen minute stretch of time, in which the Devil tempted the waitress and two passerby, his attentions again turned to Theodore.

“Theodore.  Let me impress upon you exactly why I am asking for this exchange.  Take the Salem witch trials, for instance.  That was all a mistake, however well it turned out.”

Theo’s head hung heavily, staring at the omnipresent Chinese Zodiac placemat.

“You see, the man was supposed to say bitch, not witch.  A regrettable interpreter error.  He is in one of my…favorite rooms downstairs.”

Theo’s head jerked up and turned to Zara.  “You mean… oh.  Okay.  But, no.”

“No?  Theodore, understand me.  If you give me the organs I require, you will receive in return anything you desire.”

Theodore leans back deeply against the firm vinyl.

“Ah, I see,” the Devil shakes his head sadly.  “It will require some persuasion.”

The room went quiet for Theo.  The waitress’ footsteps had stopped mid-step.  The hum of the air conditioning vent above went silent.

“Wha…what did you do?”

“You are deaf.  Take a little trial; see if you are willing to give that up for, say, a couple billion dollars?  A beautiful girl on your arm?  Anything, Theodore.”

The Devil sat back, spent.

-

“Excuse me.  I need to go,” Theo points.  “Bathroom.”

Inside the bathroom, Theo sat on the toilet inside the nearest stall.  There were four of them.  He stared at the walls for advice.

On the wall above the toilet roll, someone had scratched “NYU Diploma.  Take one.”

On the stall door, mingling among other obscenities, Theo noticed an unusual one: “Ambiguity is the Devil’s Tether-ball.”  He wouldn’t have noticed it, so faint it was, but it was rather relevant.

Next to that sentence was written: “668, the neighbor of the beast”.

The writing for the two seemed similar.  Theo threw his head into his hands and bent over.  He studied the quadrille tiles under his feet, still trying to believe that he had seen hooves next to him on the subway.

After he was done, he couldn’t hear the flush.

-

Theo was staring at himself in the cheap mirror that was slapped on the bathroom wall.  The metal restraints that confined it disturbed the serene symmetry of the glass.

Behind him, the Devil walked into the room.  Theo turned to look at him.  The Devil’s tie seemed incandescent in the dim fluorescent light that filled the bathroom like so much effluvia.

The Devil motioned for Theo to stay, and then he made some motions.  He brought his hands to his ears, and then signed a big circle.  Looking eager, the Devil moved closer and repeated the motions.

Theo could smell a whiff of something from the currents of air disturbed by the Devil.  It smelled like someone just lit a match.  Dark and smoky, it reminded him of candles that he used to light in bathtubs with girls.

There seemed only to be three stalls now; had he miscounted?  Theo sucked air through his teeth and took a few steps back.  His behind came into contact with the cold porcelain sink and he jerked slightly – it was freezing.  Water droplets attached themselves to his pants and added their cool humidity to his rising nervousness.

“Please… move away,” Theo said.

The Devil continued to sign those same signs, which were coming together into a refrain that bored into the space between them.  The Devil took a step closer as he touched his own ears, and completed the circular sign.

Theo added signs to his plea, hoping to attract the Devil’s attention.  “Please don’t come any closer,” Theo said with a shooing motion.

The Devil stopped in mid-sign, his hands up in the air, about to inscribe that ghastly circle.  His red checkered tie slowly stopped flapping.  He lowered his arms and stared at Theo.  After a few moments, the Devil moved – but not after a long, tense, drawn-out moment where the Devil seemed to be considering wrapping Theo’s neck in the checkered tie and ending all pretense of choice.

The Devil walked up next to Theo, and put his hand on his shoulder.  Squeezing hard, the Devil grunted.  Then he walked into the last stall and began to shut the door.

As soon as the door shut, Theo collapsed.

-

Pulling up to the speaker at McDonald’s, Theo rolled down his car’s window and cleared his throat.  The sky was a beautiful shade of yellow, and it made the McDonald’s sign stand out.

“Could I have a number one please,” Theo said carefully.  “Plain.”

The speaker sat silent, its grille looking like a mustache.  They were frowning at him, almost talking.  Theo shrugged and drove his car around the loop.

The girl at the drive-through window was apparently sampling the wares a bit too much – she was almost too big to even talk to him through it.

“Ear’s ur urder milkshay” Theo tried to lip-read.

Spluttering, Theo tried to override her, “That must be for the people behind me.  I didn’t get a milkshake”

He added, “I can’t hear.”

She fell silent and stared for a moment, her eyes seeming to retreat inside her head.  Turning to someone behind her, she said something and pointed to her ears.  Another girl, scrawny, with too much acne, came forward and started signing to him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know sign language.  Can I just have a number one, please, plain,” Theo said.

The scrawny one turned and conferred with the other.  They gave Theo his meal for free.

Theo felt happy.

-

Theo tried to call 911.

Patience was a virtue, he told the irate mother of three.  Her screeching kids were in the back of the Lexus minivan that just hit his car.

“Could you call 911 please.  I can’t hear.”

“You son of a bitch!  You crash in my car and ask me to call the goddamn police?  You can shove it,” the irate mom said, rather irately.  And clearly.  People talk very clearly when they’re angry.

After a few moments conferring with her screeching kids, the irate mom became calm.

“I’m sorry.  I’ve just had a bad day.  My littlest is sick and the oldest is being puneshed.  You no.  Punished.  Can we just settle this?” Theo lipread with difficulty.

“Sure, that’s fine with me.  Since it seems that we’re both damaged equally let’s just walk away from this?”

“Wunnerful, sounds fine with me.  See ya.  Drive carefully!” the calm mom said carefully, mouthing and enunciating each word.

Theo felt stupid.

-

Theo ran and took pure joy in the adrenaline coursing through his body and soul.  He looked up at the beautiful yellow sky and the green pavement.  He ran this way and that way.

Coming to a nicely manicured mall, Theo slowed for a moment.  But then he speeded up again because he realized someone was chasing him.

Running faster, his heart pounding, Theo knew that if his pursuer caught up with him, he would die an excruciating death.  He would be torn apart, each and every bone slowly removed and scraped clean.  His tendons would be used as puppeteer strings, making him move in obscene ways.

He ran into the mall and ran up the stairs to the second level.  This was the kind of mall that was open in the middle, with railings protecting each level except for the bottom.  He kept running, knowing that his pursuer was now breathing on the neck of the person behind him and would be coming to breathe on his neck really soon.

He ducked into a department store, ran to the nearest dressing room, and took a breather inside the biggest room.  Huddling inside the corner, Theo listened.  He knew that he was inside the department store now, and was going along the wall, scraping it with his claws.  Scrape, scrape, scrape.  Except the worst part was he couldn’t hear it.

Theo felt afraid.

-

Theresa woke him up with a splash of water.

“Are you okay?” she said.

Theo unfolded himself in standing position.

“You were just layin’ there, and you were even a-shivering,” the waitress explained.  “Another customer said there was this dude passed out on the floor.”

She seemed almost happy to be useful, to have something interesting actually happen.  She reminded him of his girlfriend, oddly enough.  His testicles twanged in remembrance, and he recalled the agony that he felt lying on the floor, watching her also-shapely butt leave him forever.

Theo said, “I’m okay.  Just slipped or something.”  He felt weak and groggy.  “I’m going back out there now.”

Theresa offered her arm and guided him through the door and out into the dining lounge.

-

“I don’t want to give you my ears,” Theo said as he sat down.

“Theodore, you are baking a Missay.”

“Baking a what?”

“A Missay.”

“I don’t understand.”  Theo looked away for a moment.  The waitress was now engaged in spilling something on three Chinese businessmen.  They didn’t seem happy.

“Theodore, your hears four anything.”

“What?  Oh.  I’m not giving you my ears.  Even for anything.  Morgan Stanley might hire me and where would I be without my ears?”

The three eyed each other.  The Devil signed, “Theodore, are you sure?  You could have anything.”

It was at that moment that Theo realized he could hear again.   His life suddenly seemed fuzzy, seemingly because of the added effort his brain put into converting vibrations into sound.

“I’m leaving now,” Theo said.  “Goodbye.”

He got up and stumbled to the exit from Din Din.  As he looked back, the smoke in the room seemed to dim momentarily, but it was just a passing Mack truck blocking the light from the windows.  The two, the Devil and Zara, sat in the exact same position.  As he walked out of the restaurant, he could hear the sweet sound of the truck dwindling down the street.