Crossroad
The devil always dances best in the pale moonlight. That’s why he was out on that particular evening when I came acrosst him at the cross roads. I ain’t never seen any body kick up a dust storm quite like that. I remember the moon was shinin’ down silver light on the cross roads, lighting the devil up like a Fourth of July sparkler. I came walking up from the north-bound lane of a country dirt road and there was the devil just kicking up about the wickedest dirt storm I ever seen. His feet was a flyin’ as fast as any crop duster I ever saw, an’ lemme tell you, I seen many a crop dustier in my day.
I was a tad scared at first, I walked this particular stretch a road dozens of times and I never herd so much as a cricket fart, but this particular night there was as close to a cacophonous riot of stringed instruments as one could’a ever imagined. The sound was close to deafening, but had a sweet melody that reminded myself of the brook that babbles ‘cross my back forty.
I came creeping up cause I didn’t wanna disturb nobody’s festivities uninvited, case there was a maybe a lynchin’ or p’raps a corn liquor ho-down comencin’.
Now myself, being a person raised with good manners by good people, didn’t wanna go intrudin’ on someone else’s jubilation. My gran’daddy Gideon helped bring me up proper an’ educated with a good helpin’ o’ the bible and some amount o’ sensibility regardin’ other folks’ covortin’. So I hunkered down ‘bout twenty or thirty paces from them crossroads, kinda near the bushes, an’ jus’ watched fer a spell. Well I’d be Jesus damned if I didn’t see a quartet of demon’s playing a god’s damned bit o’ fine blue-grass. I seen this one feller, right there in the middle of it all, doin’ bout the best dammned hambone I ever saw. He jus’ kept on a-stompin and a-clappin’ an’ hootin’ an’ a hollerin, creatin’ a terrible ruckus.
Those demons was all scaly an’ red, lookin’ like theys just crept outta the bowels o’ hell itself. Had themselves a certain unholy glow ‘bout them. I don’t know rightly how else to describe it ‘cept maybe that the glow kept meltin’ from red to yeller, almost as if they was bein’ lit up from the fires below as them fires burned up another anguishin’ soul.
The fiddler was ‘bout as scrawny as a weathered scarecrow, but he shore could run that cat gut crost them fiddle strings jus’ ‘bout faster than I ever heard anyone else pull ‘em. The base player, on the utha’ hand, had one crooked hoof settin’ right up on that upturned wash tub, while looking like a ree-tarded pachyderm, just hammerin’ away on that one thick piece a rope, keepin’ near perfect time. I tells ya, ah kin still feel that base palpatatin’ in my own heart to this very day.
The one demon, playin’ that damned gee-tare, might well as had fire flowin’ from under ‘is fingernails he was playin’ so fast. It sounded as if hellfire itself had taken the most tortured screams from down below and harmonized them with the wooshin’ roar of a gas fire. An’ he was jus’ part-a the rhythm section.
The demon banjo player might a been Ol’ Sam hisself had I not know who the dancer was. You wouldn’a ever been able to see his fingers dance across the strings, but he shore knew how to make that banjo sing, howel even. That Charlie Daniels feller didn’t have nothin’ on this ol’ fiend. Might have been the most beautiful thing I ever heard had I not been so scared I thought I might’a shit myself.
As hauntingly beautiful as the music was, despite how much I wanted to just run out there an’ jamboree myself to death, weren’t nothing gonna make me step out there an’ answer a challenge from the devil, who was locked up in his own revelry. I sat there, hunkered down in the bushes, ‘bout as transfixed as a body could be, watchin’ the devil kick up the wildest dust devil I ever saw.
He was dancin’ there in a sharp black suit, ‘plete with a bolo tie and a pair a shiny rattlesnake boots. He had a little black bowler perched on his head that wouldn’t a come off if Michael hisself came down from heaven on high to snatch it from him. He just kept on slappin’ ‘is knees and stompin’ ‘is feet, an’ kickin’ ‘is legs creatin’ a terrible ruckus. He jus’ kept on cavortin’ and carryin’ on in a hellacious manner, not givin’ a good gosh darn ‘bout what anyone else might-a thought.
Now, I wanted to skee-daddle on outta there, but this unholy ho-down was right in my way, an’ me, bein’ a good Christian, didn’t wanna cause no kinda unrest ‘er inneruption on my own behalf. I was taught to give the devil a wide birth if I ever saw him. But then the good lord saw fit that I had to go and make water myself. I tells ya, the pressure built up so bad my pecker felt like the St. Francis Dam ‘for it burst back in ’28. As a man who can’t tolerate no pressure I stood up to go relieve myself. That’s when I felt the eyes of Ol’ Sam fall upon me. I musta rustled some branches or sumpen, cause it felt like two burnin’ hot coals of Pennsylvania black rock touched down ‘tween my own shoulder blades. Scared me half to death it did. T’ain’t no doin’ ta have the devil take notice of ya like that. I felt it sear me to my ever lastin’ soul.
Now, I tried to make like I was going the opposite direction, like I didn’t even know what was a transpirin’ over in them there crossroads, but Ol’ Sam weren’t gonna let me off that easy. He is ever the opportunist, always lookin’ fer a fresh soul. He saw me try to turn tail an’ run off, when he bellowed in a voice, loud as Gabriel’s own horn: “Now hey there, Jasper Lou, where in tarnation d’you think you might be getting’ off to?” I stopped dead in my tracks, stiff as a jackrabbit caught in a pair a headlights. I sorely did’n want the devil talkin’ to me, no sir.
Unfortunately, when Ol’ Sam addresses you proprerly you ain’t got no choice but to listen. So’s I turn around, ‘bout ready to wet myself, an’ I says: “Well sir, I ain’t exactly shore of where I was headed but I know that I shorely don’t wanna be anywheres near here, if you kin believe that.”
“Well why not Jasper Lou? Why wouldn’t you wanna be down here in the crossroads dancing in the Devil’s Jamboree?”
I kin tell ya now that I didn’t want no part of the devil’s games, but as you kin imagine I was ‘bout as stuck as an old coon inna tree wit’ wolves prowlin round unnerneath. So’s I turn around and try as best as I might to accept my damned fate. I turned to The Devil and I says: Well, Mister Devil sir, I’d rather not partake in your sociabilities if’n it pleases ya. Y’see I gots me a wife back home an I gotta get back to her ‘for she starts worryin’ too much. You unnerstan’, we bein’ newley weds an’ all. Y’unnerstand donch’ya sir?”
“Oh why yes, but of course. I wouldn’t dream of keepin’ ya from yer blushing bride. I just thought that you might need a helpin’ hand is all.”
And by gawd-dammnit if he didn’t have my complete and full attention right then and there. I tells you times were rough back then and any kinda helpin’ hand you could get, you took. I pulled the hat off my head and set there wringing it in my hands for half a spell. I was trying to figure how Ol’ Sam might be able ta screw me outta my everlastin’ soul an’ weather or not I’d be willing to trade it.
Ol’ Sam was watchin’ me the whole time I was contemplatin’ my situation’. I could see the glint in his eye that suggested to me that he might think he had found hisself a proper mark. I kin tell you, though, that my momma didn’ raise no fool. I knew that you can’t never trust the devil, you gots to be smart about it, look for any loophole that might work agains’ ya. An’ try to ask fer somethin’ simple.
I ain’t gonna lie, me an’ Nancy Jean had fallen on a rough patch, as we are all want to do from time to time, but I didn’t know if I wanted the devil to be the one to bail us out at the expense of my ever lastin’ soul. So’s I stood up, still feelin’ the pressure built up behind my pecker an’ I said: “Mr. Devil, sir, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna go relieve myself behind this bush over yonder and contemplate yer words, sir.”
To which the sly old fox replied: “Sure, sure, take you time I gots all the time in the world.”
So I went over there to relieve myself, behind that bush, and I got to thinking; what exactly would it be that Nancy Jean an’ me could use that the devil couldn’t possibly corrupt. As the puddle grew bigger ‘neath my feet I figured that there was only one course of action; challenge the devil to a contest I couldn’t possibly loose. Now I knew this to be slightly less then foolish, but when yer cornered by the devil you don’t get much of a choice. I set there ponderin’ an’ ponderin’ till I came up with a solution that I thought I could handle. I shook off, tucked myself back inta my overalls an’ sauntered up to the devil.
He set there lookin’ at me expectantly, as if he already knew what I was fixin’ to propose.
“Alright Ol’ Sam…” I says, “What have you got to offer me that I can’t get on my own?”
The sly fox grinned, and I swear to Jesus Christ almighty that I heard a growl more feral than anything I ever heard. I heard cougars in heat sound more pleasant than the sound I heard utter outta his infernal throat. It set my hackles up to raised.
Now, I knew the devil to be a regular swindler, cheat and general brag-about. But I ain’t never heard him to be a jokester. I knew myself to be a bit of a joker and I thought I might be able to challenge him to a contest of jokery. “All right boss, here’s how I see it, I challenge you to a contest of jokes. I got some that I don’t think you ever heard. If I get even one joke that you can’t get the punch line to, me an’ Nancy Jean get to live out the rest of our natural lives in peace and plenty, an’ we get to wave to St. Peter as we pass the pearly gates to spend the rest of the ever after up in the heavenly kingdom. If you best me an’ guess the punch line to every joke I can think of then you get my soul for an eternity of damnation. Is it a deal?”
“Well Jasper Lou, you do get straight to the point donchya, I like that in a fellah. Alright it’s a deal. A contest of wit and humor it is. All you have to do is tell me a joke that I can’t guess the punch line to and you go on your way fro the rest of your natural life and after-life with no interference from me. If I guess every punchline to every joke you know, I get yer everlastin’ soul. Are those terms agreeable?”
I had’a set there a spell and think through it all. after I set ‘n thunk a bit I decided that there was no way I was goonna get outta this sos I go up to Ol’ Sam an say: “Yessir, them terms is agreeable. If I win you leave me an’ Nancy Jean alone, you win an’ you git my soul.”
The Devil smiled an' his forked tongue snuck out to wet his lips. “Well then Jasper Lou, If you would be so kind as to put down your mark on the dotted line here I believe that we can begin.” He swept his hand over an old stump and a infernal contract appeared outta thin air. This weren’t no ordinary contract neither. It was about as thick as my forearm is long. I ain’t sure but the leather mighta been made from human skin. Wouldn’t be no lie to say that I felt the jeepers run up ‘n down my body as I opened the cover to set my mark on the line.
With that bit of uncomfortable business concluded we commenced to tellin’ our jokes.
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