RGL e-Book Cover 2018©
RGL e-Book Cover 2018©
Fantastic Adventures, October 1943, with "Trick with a Brick"
Just how gullible are human beings? Gabriel and
Satan had different ideas so they decided to find out.
HALFWAY HOUSE, a large inn located on that uncertain highway that souls travel when bound for the last goal, hadn't seen such a large company of guests for some time. The reason was evident. A number of souls, themselves wondering which fork of the road to take beyond the inn, were waiting for Gabriel and Satan to choose up sides.
Those gentlemen sat in person, feet pushed under the finest banquet table in the hall, enjoying one of their customary arguments. Gabriel had just put a fine vegetable dinner under the ample folds of his stomach and Satan was washing down the last bite of bloody steak with a gulp of cold wine.
"And I say that people are getting more worldly-wise than ever before." Satan's fist crashed down on the table and his eyes flashed. "They realize when they are doing wrong, but the pleasure is so satisfying that they don't worry about the punishment."
Gabriel, always in possession of his temper, but closest to losing it when faced with this hot-tempered fool, grumbled something under his breath and speared a last carrot.
"And I say that people are essentially good, and always have been. True, they get off the track once in a while, but it's mostly because you lead them. If you keep your nose out of things..."
"Enough," Satan roared. He sprang to his feet, the chair clattering to the floor behind him. "As the present generation has it, Gabriel, you'll have to put up or shut up."
"By that you mean?" Gabriel asked.
Satan stormed up and down the low-beamed room, arms behind him, tail lashing furiously.
"Let's tempt these nice little people of yours. You remember the old days when they used to sell gold bricks to suckers? Well, we'll get a gold brick. If you can sell it easily, you'll prove that people are easily led. If not, I win my point. I say that people are smart, commit small and large crimes with full knowledge of what they are doing, and enjoy every moment of them."
"But a trip to Earth at present..." Gabriel protested. "I'll have to sort out my flock, see them home and make arrangements..."
"Enough!" Satan howled. "I have challenged you. Go home. Take a brick from your precious golden street and meet me in New York in one month."
Gabriel considered carefully, and a soft smile freshened his cheeks.
"Good," he said. "It is done. If I can't sell a brick from the street of heaven, I'll have to admit people are not easily led."
Satan regarded him with pity.
"I'd suggest a more suitable dress for New York," he said. "Those robes and that fat belly! Gad, you oughta wear a girdle."
This started them on an entirely different subject that provided fuel for the remainder of the quarrel. Satan left Halfway House with a new band of sinners. He was happy. A golden brick from the main street of Heaven. What a prize. All details he had carefully thought out. The trophy was indeed a precious one, and worth much trouble to acquire.
A SMALL, very fat man with round, smiling face and deep blue eyes
stood on the corner of a downtown street in greater New York.
Under his arm he held a small, oblong package done up carefully
with newspaper and old string. The little chap was waiting for
someone. His eyes lit up shortly as he made out a slim, mustached
individual rushing toward him out of traffic. The new arrival was
done neatly in black, with tall silk hat and eyes that held a
startling amount of sly hatred in their depths.
"Well," the tall one said. "I see you made it. That's the real thing, I take it, tucked under your arm?"
Gabriel, for the fat man was he, smiled broadly.
"Pure and heavy," he admitted. "I'll have no trouble peddling this to some lucky customer."
Satan snickered.
"We'll see," he said.
Then, staring at Gabriel's somewhat smaller waistline, he grinned wickedly.
"You know what I think, Gab?" he asked. "I think you're the one that's being led. I actually believe you're wearing that girdle."
Gabriel's face turned a brilliant peach color, then faded.
"I don't travel often," he said abruptly. "To look his best is any man's privilege in this free world."
THE bum in the ragged clothes was suspicious right from the first. To begin with he didn't have ten bucks to his name. All he owned were the clothes that covered his somewhat shaky frame and two ham sandwiches which he had just collected from a housewife.
He faced the two well dressed guys with confidence born of long hardship.
"I ain't interested in no gold brick."
The smaller of the pair smiled at him with that father-toward-son beam of hospitality.
"But, this is a real gold brick. Solid and worth its weight in—well—in gold."
The man with the sandwiches was hungry. He had been looking for a place to sit down. He ran a dirty finger under his nose, sniffled and tried to get around the two who faced him.
"Nuts," he said with a snarl. "That gold brick racket came in with the Brooklyn Bridge. I ain't buying neither one of them."
The smile faded from Gabriel's face, but Satan looked perfectly contented.
"But," Gabriel cried, "I'm not an impostor, sir. I offer you..."
He never had a chance to finish. The bum made a sudden dash around right end and was swallowed up in the crowd. Gabriel wiped his face with a silk handkerchief and puffed a little from the heat of the morning.
"That was only the first one," he said confidently. "I think he will end up where he belongs anyhow. I couldn't stand the smell of him in my place."
BUT the first, or the tenth. They were all alike. Prospect number
two had a wife at home waiting for his pay check. He didn't
intend to get the check home, but he was saving part of it to
drown his sorrows before facing the wife. He gave Gabriel a
going-over with two sharp eyes, ended Gabriel's sales talk with a
husky—"Oh yeah!" and sent him tumbling into a gutter.
Satan, noting the prospect's husky right arm, had stayed in the
background.
Gabriel picked himself up carefully, brushed some of the mud and slime from his pants and stood with his hands on his hips watching the second no-sale customer leave.
"Well I'll be," he said slowly, then noticing Satan's eyes on him, added, "hanged..."
Satan came to his side.
"Had enough?"
Gabriel's chin shot out.
"Not by a bomb-sight," he said. "Let's move on."
"My suggestion exactly, Bub," a voice said from behind him. Turning, they saw a large and very unfriendly cop, staring with suspicious eyes at the gold brick still clutched in Gabriel's fist.
THE newly-weds didn't want any.
Not even a share. Sure Bud needed dough, and Sarah was a pretty little thing who intended to make both ends meet by cutting the budget in the middle. But, without any doubt, they didn't want any.
Gabriel met them in the park, sitting by themselves on a quiet bench. He approached them with a new-born confidence in himself. These were young, innocent kids. Surely they would be led easily? He sat on the opposite end of the bench and when they had worried for some time about money, he took the brick from his pocket.
"Ahum!" He cleared his throat.
"Would you two children be interested in buying a tidy nest egg?"
"Would you be interested in obtaining a tidy nest egg?"
Not even the greenest salesman would start a sales talk that way, but Gabriel thought his gold should be enough.
Bud stared at Sarah, and Sarah touched her head and winked at him.
"No, thanks," Bud answered politely, and the two resumed their discussion.
It was growing late in the afternoon. Gabriel knew that Satan was grinning at him from behind the big elm tree.
"Solid gold," he said uncertainly. "This is no fake. I have lots of them. Selling this one at bargain rates. Ten dollars?"
His tone was hopeful, yet not too much so.
Bud, already tired of the stranger, turned angrily.
"Look," he said. "We got this bench first. Either move along or shut up, will you?"
The fat little man with the girdle breathed deeply and was silent. He listened as they talked over the problem of getting along on fifteen dollars a week, thought of the neat sum he held in his hand, and finally gave up. With a deep sigh, he arose and walked away.
"Screwball," Bud said.
Sarah sniffed.
"If that brick was real gold, we could almost buy a little home. Does he think we're nuts?"
Gabriel heard from a distance, and turned in his tracks.
"Maybe!" he said in a clear voice, and hurried his footsteps toward the entrance of the park.
"WHY not admit it's impossible to peddle that gold to anyone?"
Satan begged. "My feet are killing me and you've been puffin'
like a whale for the past two hours."
"I don't puff," Gabriel protested. "I'm not the overstuffed fool you make me out to be, and my girdle isn't tight. I'm very happy and comfortable."
"Stubborn ass," Satan said, partly to himself.
"Huh?"
"I said, 'I pass,'" Satan explained. "I'm holding all the aces, so why shouldn't I?"
A look of sudden pity flashed over Gabriel's broad face.
"You're pretty smart, aren't you?"
Satan actually blushed.
"You suggested this," he said. "I'm only here to see the fun."
"And you're sure you're holding the aces?"
Satan nodded curtly.
"Most of them, at least."
"Then remember this," Gabriel let the words sink in slowly. "Sometimes four deuces take the pot."
"Cut the riddles," the tall man pleaded. "Why don't you give up? You can't sell the thing."
Gabriel's eyes flashed.
"But I can give it away. That will still prove that people are gullible enough to accept it."
Satan considered.
"Yes," he said. "It would prove that you are right. I say you can't even give it away. No one believes in gold bricks."
THE hospital looked so inviting that Gabriel couldn't pass it.
The sun had gone to bed and night covered the east end. The
streets were poor and the people poorer. Surely someone here, in
the center of poverty, would take a chance on the golden brick.
Gabriel turned in at the hospital door, walked carefully into the corridor and looked for a spot to leave the brick.
No one was in sight, except one ample scrubwoman who was working at the far end of the hall. Her back was turned and she looked like a small elephant backing across a tight-wire.
Gabriel pushed a door open and propped it wide with the brick. They would surely find it there. He retreated to the shadows of the street and crossed to the other side.
"Give it away?" Satan asked.
"Not yet. I left it where the scrubwoman will find it in a minute."
"Then we'll wait," Satan agreed. "But I'll bet you get it back again, one way or another."
They could not see what went on inside. However, Elsie, the scrubwoman with the broad beam, backed her way along the hall until her eyes fell on the open door. It happened to be Doctor Washburn's office and the doctor was expected back for evening work. She had already scrubbed his floor and had closed the door carefully to keep out the dust. Now she was angry.
"Blasted idiot, he was, whoever put that door-stop there," she said, and climbed to her feet. Bending over she picked up the brick. Her eyes widened for a second at the rich, yellow color and the weight of the object. Then they narrowed.
"Fancy new paper weight," she hazarded a guess, and entered Washburn's office. "Probably belongs to his majesty, the sawbones."
She pushed a number of papers to the center of the desk and put the brick on top of them. Then, dusting her hands together quickly, she returned to the hall.
DOCTOR WASHBURN, large, with a wart on his left ear, came in at once. He scratched the wart as he entered, sat down and started to sort the papers. To do this he had to pick up the brick. It was heavy and the edge cut his finger slightly.
"Damn!" He stood up, keeping the brick in his hand and went to the door. "Elsie!"
Elsie blushed demurely and hoisted her two-hundred-odd pounds upright.
"Yes, Doctor?"
"Elsie," Washburn said impatiently, "did you leave this damned brick on my desk?"
Elsie was a bundle of nerves and worry.
"Oh! Isn't it yours, sir? I thought..."
"Don't give a damn what you thought," he said. "The cussed thing tore the skin of my index finger and I don't want it around."
He turned to the office, saw that the window was open and tossed the brick through the opening.
It was Gabriel's bad luck that at that exact moment he had re- crossed the street and was listening just outside the window through which the brick made its meteor-like flight. Gabriel's bald head, haloed only by a fringe of silver hair was not prepared for the blow.
"IT wouldn't be so late," Gabriel protested weakly, "if I hadn't
walked under the window and been forced to retire for repairs."
Satan chuckled.
"Chief magistrate gets bonk on the konk," he said. "That won't make very good reading in the Heavenly Harp, next edition."
Gabriel looked shocked.
"You—wouldn't—tell?"
Satan looked uncertain.
"We'll see." he said. "Now—what's your next plan?"
Gabriel pointed to a small cottage wedged between a rose garden and the wall of a freight-shed.
"Into homes like that," he started a windy speech, "go Angels of Mercy to help the poor inhabitants..."
"Cut it," Satan said sharply. "Remember, I don't fall for that soft stuff."
Gabriel looked hurt.
"One of my best speeches..."
"Save it for the Heavenly rostrum," Satan sneered. "While you're on Earth, relax and talk straight."
Gabriel recovered from his fit of temperament.
"Okay," he agreed. "So, I'm going to leave the brick once more. There are a couple of office girls who live in that cottage. They haven't enough money to live on. They are young and clever. I'm sure they will recognize the worth of the brick."
Satan did a little dance on the deserted walk.
"It seems to me," he hummed, "I've heard that song before..."
The cottage had a single light burning in the front room. Gabriel tiptoed to the open window and placed the brick on the table just inside. Then he backed away and put his hand to his lips.
"Girls," he called in a powerful voice. "Come see what Santa just left."
As though he had just delivered a May basket, he turned and ran down the steps and across the lawn to the safety of the rose bushes. There he waited patiently.
At first all was silent. Then he caught sight of a dainty robe and the face of a girl of twenty. The girl tip-toed into the lighted room, looked around carefully and turned.
"Grace," she called in a wondering voice. "There's no one here. Come down. It's all right."
Then the other girl, a tall, rather sophisticated model, slunk into sight. Together they dashed for the open window, slammed it down and locked it quickly. Gabriel saw the look of amazement on their faces as they saw the brick.
The younger girl clutched it to her. Then the excitement started. They both grabbed at the brick and a fight ensued. Although he could hear nothing they said, it was clear that both girls wanted the brick.
Gabriel breathed with relief.
His victory was short lived.
The tall girl managed to capture the prize. She rushed to the window and pushed it up hurriedly.
Horror stricken, Gabriel heard her shout.
"... have to get rid of the thing. You don't know. It's probably some sort of a time bomb."
The brick took a high arc in the air and the window slammed down again.
Gabriel tried to dodge, but the rose thorns had him tightly in their grip. The brick dropped with the precision of a well-aimed block-smasher and the lights went out. Both the lights in the house and the flashing stars in poor Gabriel's aching head.
HALFWAY HOUSE was deserted.
This was out of season for passing souls and the keeper of the inn was surprised when Satan and Gabriel both showed up on the same night. Gabriel the keeper put to bed with a poultice on his swelling dome. Satan, in fine humor, ordered rich wine, laughed and drank himself under the table. The keeper of Halfway House was puzzled. To see these two together—and on top of that, Satan the winner of whatever argument had taken place—caused no rest in his anxious heart.
At breakfast he overhead some of the conversation.
"So," Satan guffawed, "you admit that I win. That people are not gullible and led about, but manage to run their own lives?"
Gabriel sipped at warm tea and managed a poached egg. His head was killing him.
"I do," he said, in the tone of a submissive bride at the wedding ceremony.
"And that in spite of all your trouble, you have to admit that people deliberately plot their own course toward my domain. That they know wrong and do not try to evade it?"
Gabriel didn't answer. He had had enough. He arose hastily, donned his robes and walked away.
In his haste, he had overlooked the golden brick. It lay on the table before Satan.
Satan sat quietly for a long time, his greedy eyes on the prize Gabriel had forgotten.
Satan had planned the whole campaign with underworld cleverness. He had influenced Gabriel to attempt a trick that he, Satan, knew could not succeed. His object? To obtain the brick, solid and gold, from the very street of Heaven. A trophy that he could display at home, telling amidst high humor, the fool Gabriel had made of himself when he lost it.
THE trip to Hades was a short one.
The short-cut past the first furnace saved Satan as much as half a day. His horse, however, had not been ridden for the past week and was skittish as a young colt. The first furnace was blazing nicely, and Fire Keeper stood near at hand, offering new fuel to the greedy flame.
The accident could not have been avoided. The horse shied to one side suddenly, to escape some imaginary object on the pavement. Satan lost his balance, and in his attempt to regain it, let the brick slip from his cloak.
The gold brick performed a small arc and fell into the hottest part of the flame.
Fire Keeper swore a mighty oath and leaped forward with his shovel.
"Clinkers," he shouted. "Always clinkers. What a mess, and me working all day to get a good even blaze."
Satan was off his horse in an instant, a torrent of oaths pouring from his lips.
"Fool," he screamed at Fire Keeper. "Ignorant fool. That brick is pure gold. Get it out of there before it melts."
Fire Keeper, realizing that his master's anger knew no bounds, leaped into the center of the blaze and shoveled furiously. Even as he worked, Satan hopped up and down at the edge of the pit. Fire Keeper's expression changed slowly as he scooped up the remains of the brick and shoved it out on the edge of the pit. He came up himself hesitantly and stood above the clinker.
He looked puzzled.
"I am sorry, Master," he said sadly, "but that brick was not of gold. You have been fooled. It makes a clinker hard as rock and was only a painted brick of common clay."
Satan's expression vanished. It was replaced by one of hurt and deep-seated distrust.
"That damnable fool of a Gabriel," he muttered a little enviously. "With three aces in my hand back to back, he had four deuces to cover them."