Chapter 20 – Yes, It’s True–Satan Owns My Father’s Soul – Transcript

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Christopher Gronlund presents Hell Comes with Wood Paneled Doors. Read by me, the author, Christopher Gronlund.

CHAPTER TWENTY

“Yes, It’s True—Satan Owns My Father’s Soul!”

            I must confess, seeing Brother Rob in action threw a wrench in everything I believed. You hear about half-baked freaks all over the country claiming to work miracles and all you can do is laugh at them. But seeing Brother Rob got me thinking…maybe there was something more. Like Dad said at Graceland, if I didn’t believe in God, how could I believe Lucky was possessed? To believe in one phenomenon and not the other didn’t make sense. I did a lot of thinking on our way to the Canyon; I wanted to keep thinking, but my family had more pressing issues on their minds.

            “So what are we gonna do about the car?” Mom said.

            “I think Michael’s onto something,” Dad said. “He thinks it feeds off our arguing. The more we argue, the worst the car acts up, right Michael?”

            “Huh?” I was still thinking about Brother Rob.

            “The car acts up from our arguing, right?”

            “Yeah, Dad.”

            “I still hate this car, possessed or not,” Mom said.

            Dad felt a need to defend it, now that he could attribute all its problems to possession. “It’s not that bad a car, really, if you look beyond the possession. It handles really well when we’re not all arguing and it serves our needs. It’s a fun car when you get down to it.”

“Well, it does have more legroom than that crap Gremlin.” Mom almost seemed to be warming up to the Inferno. She ran her hand along all the dials and levers on the dash. “It does have a peculiar charm, I suppose. Do you know what all these things do?”

            “No,” Dad said, looking a little nervous. “I haven’t had time to read the owner’s manual.”

            “Where is it?” Mom said.

            “What?” Dad was trying to play dumb, but Mom wasn’t about to give up.

            “The owner’s manual—where is it?”

            “Oh…yeah…” Dad said, searching for an excuse. “I took it out because I planned on reading it. I left it at home.”

            Mom saw right through him. “I know you, James O’Brien. You wouldn’t leave home without the owner’s manual. It’s gotta be in the glovebox. How do you get into this damn thing?”

            “I don’t know,” Dad said, knowing Mom was getting warmer.

            “Well there’s gotta be a way in.” She fumbled around with buttons, dials, and levels until finally triggering the switch. “There we go!” She dug around and found the owner’s manual. She looked at the cover and read the quote from The Book of Revelation.

            “Jesus Christ!”

            “What?” Dad said, acting surprised.

            “You liar!” Mom said. “The owner’s manual’s right here! You had to see it when you put paperwork in the glove compartment; how could you have seen this and not questioned it, James?!” She held the manual up for everyone to see. She dug around the glovebox some more, before pulling something out and reading it.

            “Holy shit!”

            “What?” Dad said. She held out the contract.

            “The down payment was six-hundred sixty-six dollars, James. Didn’t that trigger warning bells in your head?! You almost deserve all this, you’re so stupid!”

            “Now remember, Dear. If we get mad, the car’s going to act up,” he said. “Take some deep breaths. You have to stay calm, or the car gets bad.”

            “I’m not gonna yell at you,” Mom said, “but how could you fork over a check for six-hundred sixty-six dollars and not given things more thought. How could you have looked at the cover of the manual, seen the quote from Revelations, and not been just a little suspicious?

            “It’s Revelation, not Revelations—“

            “I don’t care if it’s from the Book of Christ Himself, James! How could you not have at least thought something a little weird was going on?!”

            “Shh!” he said. “We don’t want to anger the car.” I could tell he tried coming up with a good excuse, but the best my old man could summon at that moment was, “I really liked the car. It’s neat.”

            Mom started reading the contract—I never saw Dad more nervous. After a couple minutes of uneasy silence, Mom smiled and said, “So we’re not supposed to yell, or get frustrated about things, right?

            “Right,” Dad said, knowing Mom was about to drop a bomb. “Why?”

            “I just don’t want you getting mad when you see you signed your soul over to Satan.”

            “What?!” Dad hit the brakes so hard, the car went into a skid and he pulled over to the shoulder.
            “Take some deep breaths, James,” Mom said. “You gotta stay calm or the car acts up. Remember?”

            “Oh, crap!”

            “I can’t believe you of all people didn’t read this before signing it.”

            “I figured it was a standard contract,” he said. “I wanted to get behind the wheel.” He tried reading over Mom’s shoulder. “What’s it say?”

            “Exactly what I told you,” Mom said. “By taking the car and signing the contract, you give Satan your soul for all eternity when you die.”

            “Can I get it back?” Dad asked. “Is there a refund clause?”

            “There’s fine print,” Mom said, pulling her reading glasses from her purse. “Lemme see what it says.” She mumbled to herself as she scanned the document. “Oh, here we go! ‘While the signee forfeits his soul to Almighty Satan, standard means of redemption apply. One: Almighty Satan reserves the right to trade signee’s soul with any party Almighty Satan chooses. In this occurrence, rights to signee’s soul transfer to the party with which Almighty Satan traded. Two: if biblical prophecy—as stated in the Book of Revelation—occurs and the Rapture arrives before signee dies and signee is a Christian, his soul will be placed in turnaround and revert back to the property of God Almighty. Three: if the Inferno is destroyed by an act of God, the signee’s soul will revert back to the original owner and not be claimed by Almighty Satan at the time of signee’s death.’”

            “That last one sounds the most promising,” she said.

            “Yeah, but if a guy who can drive a demon from Lucky can’t do the same thing for the car…it doesn’t sound very good.”

            “Well, according to this,” Mom said, “it’s gotta come straight from the Big Guy upstairs anyway.”

            “Those don’t sound like the best odds.”

            “Ya never know,” Aunt Margie said. “He works in mysterious ways…”

*     *     *

            We drove along for a couple hours, all of us silent, thinking about the contract. Before leaving New Jersey, I was a skeptic, but knowing Satan owned your father’s soul could change your mind. The whole trip, from thinking it was a pilgrimage of sorts, to seeing Brother Rob—it all seemed to be adding up. I was right: something big was going to happen at the canyon and somehow I knew I would be an important part of that event.

            The twins finally broke the silence. “Are we almost to the Grand Canyon?”

            “We’re getting closer,” Dad said, “but we’ll be going in the morning, after we sleep.”

            “Are we going to stop someplace we can roast marshmallows?” they asked.

            “I don’t think your Mom will ever sleep outside again,” he said. “I think it’s hotels the rest of this trip, so we probably won’t get a chance to roast any marshmallows, guys.”

            “BOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!”

* * *

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