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The Devil's Wife MAG
“Lucifer! Lucifer, darling! Breakfast!”
Julie finished flipping the eggs and removed her blue, floral apron with the bold words KISS THE COOK sewn neatly on the front. On tiptoe, she made her way to the bedroom.
“Poor devil. He has so much trouble waking up in the morning.”
Julie gently shook Satan awake and smiled sweetly into his wicked, wrinkled face. He groaned and dragged his clawed hands across the sheets, ripping them for the seventh time that week. Julie helped him put on the new bunny slippers she had bought for his birthday and his black robe with embroidered skull and crossbones. For breakfast they had coffee that was just hot enough to sting the tongue and bacon and eggs in the shape of faces (Julie's smiled, Lucifer's was screaming in pain).
When Lucifer finished, Julie cleared the table and then clasped her hands and stared adoringly at him as he got ready for work. He picked up his pitchfork and walked to the door, screwing up his face into a grim menace. Lucifer was gray-haired and a bit fat, but Julie didn't care. She thought he was as intimidating as ever. Julie watched lovingly as his flabby arms picked up his briefcase (marked PROPERTY OF SATAN: TOUCH AND BURN FOREVER), and he waddled, stone-faced and chubby-legged, to the door. As Lucifer turned to leave, she ran over, set the kitchen stool at his feet, clambered up, and kissed him on the cheek.
“Have a wonderful day, sweetie! And don't forget your banana cream pie; I made it especially for you.”
Lucifer grumbled and scuffed his shoes into her perfect, lavender carpet. Then he stalked out the door.
“Bye, honey! I love you!”
Julie jumped off the stool, gazing after his retreating figure. Their anniversary was finally here and they had five years of happy marriage to celebrate today. She was so glad that she had agreed to become Mrs. Julie Satan. It was the best decision she had ever made. True, Lucifer had forgotten all their anniversaries, but Julie was certain that he would remember this one. It might take him all day, but he would. Or maybe he had known the whole time and was going to surprise her!
Julie looked where Lucifer had messed up the carpet and sighed. Repressing a grimace, she looked at the wedding photo hanging on the wall. She was grinning and Lucifer was scowling, what she liked to call celebrating in his own, special way. Julie gave a short laugh and took the photo down. Glancing around to make sure nobody was watching, she flipped back the hidden wall to reveal a small cupboard containing two packed suitcases. There was work to be done.
The doorbell rang. A young man with a clipboard stood there, pointing toward a huge crane dangling a monstrous wrecking ball. Julie took the suitcases and walked out. It was time to flatten their house. Within minutes, the whole building came crashing down. She even had her precious garden destroyed. All that was left was a small sign hammered in the grass with an arrow pointing up to the mountain directly behind their property. Lucifer had always adored that mountain (or at least Julie assumed he did, for he looked at it much more than he looked at her). Whenever they went on picnics, Julie would try to start conversations and he would just look perturbed and stare up at the mass of land behind them. So Julie hiked to the top and, at precisely the same time, a huge line of trucks pulled up. Troops of construction workers poured out, and immediately began building. Julie sat at the peak to watch. To pass the time, she threw grapes into the air and let them fall into her mouth, chomping viciously. She thought about the banana cream pie she had made for Lucifer. It was going to be a great day.
The workers finished their new, thirteen-story house with indoor pool and purgatory by noon. Julie nodded; they were exactly on schedule. She reached into her purse, handed each a wad of cash and a Friend of the Devil autographed card, and waved them off. She tossed the rest of the grapes into the abyss (one of the main attractions of this location) and skipped into her new home. She unpacked her suitcase, grabbed her gardening tools, and set out into the yard. Beginning from scratch was difficult, but she managed.
All day Julie worked in the garden. She planted vegetables in the side yards and her favorite flowers in the front. As she knelt and smoothed dirt over her final tulip bulb, she felt a dark shadow pass over her.
“Why Lucifer, you are home already?” Julie chattered. “It can't be past three. I am lucky the house was built so fast!”
“Lucifer, dear, don't you remember what today is?”
“Never mind, I'll tell you. It's our fifth anniversary! Remember, Lucifer?”
Julie turned around and found herself looking up at a tall, thin, mustachioed man carrying a briefcase. He was not Lucifer. Julie smiled pleasantly and brushed the sweat from her forehead.
“Oh, I am awfully sorry, sir. I thought you were my husband.”
“I am often mistaken for the devil,” said the man. “No need to apologize.”
“Of course, of course,” said Julie. “Would you like to come in? The house is entirely new to me, but I'm sure I could find the kitchen if you care for a bite to eat.”
“No time for that. I have come to inform you that your husband, Mr. Lucifer Humphrey Satan, is dead. He was found this afternoon at 2 p.m, lying in a small patch of country not five miles from here. He died somewhere between the hours of 12 p.m. and 1 p.m. from an allergic reaction to a mysterious and rather delicious banana cream pie. Would you happen to know anything about this?”
It was all Julie could do not to smile. She swallowed and composed herself.
“No,” she said. “I am afraid not.”