A Devil of a Time
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	"Mr. ah, um Satan? The doctor will see you now."

	A tall gentleman (as I like to think of myself) rises into the
notice of the waiting room, a dark presence in a black leather suit and 
boots (feel the screams of the defenseless cow spirits with each step).  I
lurk across the room, a moving shadow with a wave of shudders following me. 
These things always happen when I go out among the mortals, a perk, if you
will.  The nurse's white uniform takes on a momentary red tinge, unnoticed
by all but myself as I readjust my sun glasses, as we move down to the
office hidden away in the depths of the featureless medical building.  Don't
want the heavenly hosts getting wind of this visit, you see.

	"In here sir." The nurse shrinks back as I pass into a cubicle
occupied by a harried looking woman.  "Dr. Wilson, Mr. ah, um Satan is here
to see you," she barely gets out from beneath the shield of her clipboard
her arms have locked to her chest.  One arm is pried out to close the door.

	Dr. Mary Elizabeth Wilson, graduate of John Hopkins June 1969, born
September 23, 1945, never married, abortion October 31, 1960, lapsed
Catholic.  I extend my hold on her and she can feel it - turns a lovely
shade of grey, complementing the office decor.  She stops in the act of
extending her hand, and I bow.  Mortals just can't handle the claws, you
see. 



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March 20, 1995 
N. Aucoin