Coffee Break At Starbucks

A Coffee Break In An Out Of The Way Place

by Bob Liddil

“You have the easy job,” commented Michael. He took a sip from his latte’ and stared evenly at his adversary across the table. “Bringing out the evil in man is simply a matter of allowing him to take the path of least resistance.”

Lucifer pondered the point for a moment and then offered, “I disagree that mine is the easier of our two jobs. Man is hardwired from birth to be righteous and to follow the holy path. It is difficult to persuade him to deviate, even when the reward is great, because, ultimately, the punishment that awaits is greater still.”

Michael scoffed. “Not so. Man is predisposed to evil. The path to the light is the difficult road.”

“I propose a wager.” Lucifer said. Choose a single man and we will each influence him in equal measures. The outcome will decide our disagreement.”

“Done,” said Michael, “but with a stipulation.” He now had a wry smile on his angelic face.

“Name it.” Lucifer said, enthusiastic now that the game would soon be afoot..

“Just this once,” said Michael, “I will represent the darkness, and you the light. That way each of us will use the others’ best tricks to influence the outcome.”

“Done and done!” Lucifer declared, delighted. “Who will be our guinea pig?”

Michael waved his hand slightly and a scene appeared between them, hovering above the table, and shimmering slightly. “Him.” The archangel said with satisfaction, and the image of a dingy gym came into focus, along with weights, a wrestling ring and a young wrestler working his way through exercises.

“I’ll go first,” The Prince of Darkness said. “It feels strange to do something ‘good ‘”

He waved his hand in a gesture of power and said softly, “A gift of fame and fortune.”

The young wrestler was extraordinarily gifted and very well trained. When the scouts from the WWE stopped by his next show, he was well prepared and they liked him a lot. One phone call got the ball rolling and in less than a year, he had cleared the minor leagues and stood on the threshold of his first national TV appearance.

“My move.” Said Michael.

In the locker room, the young wrestler paced back and forth. His call was not until the second hour, but he still had a TV promo to cut. Nearby, one of the older veterans sat watching dispassionately as the kid fidgeted.

Michael put a thought into the veteran’s head, which the man spoke aloud. He said, “ I got something that’ll calm you down a little.”

“I don’t do drugs,” Lucifer quickly projected into the boy’s mind.

“I want to fit in,” countered Michael. “I don’t want to make waves.”

“Whatcha got?” The kid asked.

“Round one to me,” said Michael.”

Three years sped by so fast that the young wrestler barely saw them, except in vignettes. He became an icon, a symbol of right and good to a TV audience that worshiped him. Under Lucifer’s guidance, he visited sick kids, gave his time to charity and worked hard for the greater good.

Under Michael’s influence, he graduated from pills to cocaine. More and more of his cash went to the dealers who constantly hung about him.

Lucifer, unrelenting, placed him on the path to family, wife, kids, church, charity, and further good works.

Michael, with unusual glee for an archangel, introduced him to Vegas, strippers, hookers, and an ever downwardly spiraling spiral of chaos and good times.

Six more years passed. His popularity began to fade. Customs, at Miami International Airport, at the end of a return flight to the US from England, found five ounces of coke in his luggage. The WWE cut him loose after a week of stories in the press. His wife filed for divorce and sole custody of the kids 3 months later. Michael was beginning to squeeze.

Lucifer came back with a crippling blow. A Mormon missionary, who happened also to be a fan, bumped sat next to the wrestler in coach him on a flight to Mobile, Alabama, where he was scheduled to appear in an indy show. 6 weeks later, and newly dedicated to God, the wrestler had joined the Mormon Church and sworn off everything, including coffee and tea.

Michael was incredulous at the setback. He was about to admit defeat, as the wrestler met a nice church girl and married for the second time. “It was a low blow.” He grumbled, all but accusing Lucifer of cheating to win. The archangel decided though, to wait a while before conceding.

The wrestler, now in his late 30’s got a job in a Provo Wal-Mart and settled down with his new family. Thanks to Michael, he still had a little income from videotapes from his WWE heyday, and thanks to also to whispers from Michael, he began spending it in Salt Lake City’s Adult Book Stores. But he also attended church and church functions as well. Soon, he had slipped so far that Michael was again gaining in confidence.

Lucifer played a trump card by whispering into a church official’s ear, that a high profile member such as the wrestler would make a good official. He was nominated and accepted.

Michael did nothing, preferring to pass the round and observe. Over the next year’s time, the wrestler was arrested in an adult bookstore, showcased in the newspaper as a bad Mormon, excommunicated and once again, divorced.

Lucifer was incredulous. “You did not do anything at all.” He said, amazed. “That’s one of my best kept secrets.”

The two arch enemies watched as the despondent wrestler bought a gun with his last hundred dollars, robbed a convenience store, shot and killed the clerk and spent the $200 from the crime on one last high. He used the last bullet in the gun to kill himself.

“As you can see,” Michael said, his latte’ resting lightly in his hand, “You have the easy job.”

Lucifer shook his head, a half smile on his face. “Had you going though, didn’t I?”

“Loser pays.” Said Michael. “We need to get back to work, on our own jobs. Coffee break’s over.”

Lucifer signaled to the waitress. “Check please.”

Exiting Starbuck’s, exactly halfway between Heaven and Hell, both workers went back on the clock.

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