Have you ever been in situations in which the only logical explanation is the hand of the devil himself, and no one else, not even his angels? If you have not, grab your pop corn and read on.
My name is Betty, and I once played chess with the devil himself. Just after high school, I was dating a nice guy called George. George was one of those husband material guys: Does not drink, does not party; and that is not to insinuate that guys who drink and party are not husband material. I, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. I was still young, heck still am.
My old man worked in a different town, and was hardly home. Then, I used to live with my older sister. Our other older siblings had already moved out, and my younger brother was in a boarding school. Sometimes, George would come visiting
always when my dad was away. At other times, he would come visiting when my sister is at her boyfriend’s place. Focus here, stop looking at me with those bad eyes. We would just watch movies till late, then we would go sleep.
This one time, when George was around, my sister was conveniently at her boyfriend’s place and the house was all to ourselves, we (George and I) heard a knock on the door. My old man was scheduled to come in the following day, so I figured it must be the new estate guards. Being the cautious person that I am, I went to the balcony to check, and what I saw made my bladder weak. My dad’s car was packed up front. It was 8 PM!
The devil’s first ‘check!’
I kid you not, on another day, I would have broken a bone or five after falling from running down the stars, but the devil had other plans. So, I tell George, things are thick, go to the bedroom as we try to figure this out. I call my sister to tell her, the owner of the house has paid his children a surprise visit, but she is drunk as hell. Finally, I go to open the door, 15 minutes later. So for 15 minutes, the only thing I thought was, “George, go to the bedroom, we will figure this out!!!!“
“Today you have slept early?” is my old man’s greeting.
“I did some laundry, and so I was tired, decided to sleep early.” I reply. And that was the beginning of tripping.
So far so good. I get some left over food, warm in the microwave, and he eats as we talk about nothing in particular and catch up.
“Shouldn’t you get some rest?” I finally told him. The second mistake.
“Is your sister asleep?” He asked, ignoring my plea to have him go to bed.
The devil’s second ‘check!’
“She went to visit Carol (my other sister)!” I answered. He looked at me the way he normally looks at someone when he is sure you are lying to him. It did not matter much, one crisis had been averted.
For some reason, he had to read something, and his spectacles were in the car. He asked me to fetch them.
So far, the devil has just been moving his pieces on the chess board waiting for the opportune moment to check-mate me.
It was a ritual that after removing clothes from the clothes-line, we would put them in my bedroom. My old man decided to get clothes for the following day – since he was flying out – from my bedroom. And the idiot in the room had locked the door from inside!
My trouble for getting the old man his glasses is repaid by, “Why have you locked the bedroom door?“
The devil’s third ‘check!’
“Laundry had been done by mama fua so I had to lock the bedrooms?” The thing with a lie you have not thought much about is, it is easy to contradict yourself.
“Okay,” he said, “Get me my shirts I show you which ones you will iron for me!“
He went to the living room, and I got my chance to ask George to open the door. I brought him the shirts, and he insisted some were missing. He got a bright idea
from the devil to go get the shirts himself. My old man never enters my bedroom, but that day, the devil was working his magic.
On getting in, guess who is just there, shaking like he had been snowed on in Siberia?
“I noticed something was going on here, how do you explain this?” my old man asked.
And, I can swear, I heard the devil say, “Check mate!”