The Loophole
Farley found the Devil through
the Yellow Pages.
Of course, he had to make inquiries
first. He haunted the reserved section of
the public library until he found an old
book containing the right spells. Then he
shopped around for chalk and candles
and a lot of smelly herbs. By the time he
drew a pentagram and set the candles
out and burned the herbs Farley was
pretty beat. Next he chanted the spells
and conjured up Astaroth a rather ugly
customer who rode a dragon, carried a
viper in his left hand, and seemed very
uptight about being disturbed. But
Farley kept safely inside the pentagram
and told him what he wanted. Astaroth
shook his head.
By Kathy Lynch
"Not my department," he said. "You'll
have to talk to the boss.".
"And where can I find Him?"
"Locally he goes by the name of Dr.
Horner. He's in the book."
Can I tell him you sent me?"
/zTell him and be damned," said Astaroth. "I'm
getting the hell out of here?'
And he did. It took Farley two days
just to air out the place afterward, and
he had a rough time squaring things with
the landlady when she complained
about the noise. But finally he picked up
the phone book and located Dr. Horner's
name. Not too surprisingly, he turned
out to be a Beverly Hills psychiatrist.
Getting an appointment was a hassle;
the receptionist did a number about be
ing all booked up until a year from next
Thursday. Then he mentioned Astaroth's
name and it4urned out to be the magic
word.
"Come in tonight," she said. "Ten
o'clock."
So finally Farley found himself in the
private office, face to face with
Astaroth's boss. Dr. Horner turned out to
be elderly and a bit on the short side.
The eyes peering from behind heavy
glasses seemed quite normal and there
were no unnatural growths sprouting
/z
from his forehead.
You don't look Jike the Devil," said Farley.
Dr. Horner blinked.
"You don't look like a man suffering
from delusions," he said.
"But of course when my receptionist
mentioned Astaroth I knew it as my pro
fessional duty to see you as quickly as
possible. Would you like to talk about
your problem?"
"I'm frustrated," said Leo Farley.
"Aren't we all?" Dr. Horner nodded.
"Taxes, inflation, wholesale corruption,
retail violence. And on top of everything
else, this damned business about
malpractice insurance. He broke off
abruptly.
"Sorry," he said. "Suppose you sit
Page 4
down and tell me."
So Farley told him: his unhapp]
childhood, not making top grades i
school, not making the team, not makini
girls. How the war in Nam kept him f ron
college,; and how he couldn't enrol
when he returned. His parents died in
car crash, and he had to go to work ini
paint store, even though he was allergic
to turpentine. Then he got into his mar
riage. Margaret wasn't much for looks
she couldn't cook anything but TV din
ners, and though he wanted kids sh
turned out to be sterile. Also, she wa
frigid, a nagger, and a compulsive folk
singer. This latter affliction brough
about her death from hepatitis, follow
ing the purchase of a secondhand guita
with an infected pick.
So, for the past six months Leo Farley had livei
alone, a pudgy, middle-aged man whosi
hair (since he was not a politician), wa
turning gray. He still worked at the pain
store, still ate TV dinners, and it seemei
as though all he got out of life was oldei
"Ever thought about suicide?" asket
Dr. Horner.
"Frequently," said Farley. "Is.. tha
your best offer?"
Dr. Horner shook his head. "I'm no
suggesting, fust wondering. With all th
rotten luck you've had through th
years, what's kept you going?"
"This." said Farley.
He opened his wallet and took out th
picture. Dr. Horner squinted at i
through his thick lenses. The three-by
three photo was obviously old and thH
color was slightly faded, but even sc -1
there was no denying the beauty of itfl
subject. The teen-age girl posing fufl
length in a brief bikini had a voluptuoifl
figure and a sensual, provocative fact J
framed by an aureole of flaming ret
T
hair.
I he psychiatrist reacted with an unprofessionalB
but highly appreciative whistle.
"Who is she?"
"Linda Duvall," said Farley. "Thaw