It all started innocently enough.
You mortgaged your soul for a
small amount of cash, just
enough to get you through. You
went to a local firm, one
you could trust. You had grown
up with the man behind the desk, you
had chosen different paths, your
path, of course, led you here,
handing over your dearest asset and
his landed him on the acceptable side of the
desk, on the receiving end of your
small collateral but still you thought
you could trust him. In his hand your
soul didn’t look like so very much,
but it’s the only one you have and it’s
quite important to you. A week
later you received a letter in the mail,
your loan had been sold to another
firm, you must mail the payment to
this address, a handy coupon book
was included to facilitate this. You
mailed the payment, you sighed over
the number of coupons in the book.
So many payments until your soul
was your own again. And it was
such a small amount of money! A month
or so later, another letter, another firm.
This would happen endlessly, Your
soul was passed off like a sad whore from
john to john. You grew confused, you missed
a payment. You could hear the
evil laugh in your ear, could
see him lurking in the shadows.
You said Oh hell, have we made
it all the way to you? He said
of course, there is no one else who
covets souls the way I do.
He said And, by the way, should you
be in need of a bit more cash,
I would be happy to accommodate
you. You said Oh no, I am not falling
for your tricks. At first you said that.
After awhile you said Well maybe just
a little bit.
by Cher Bibler