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THE MISSIONARY'S CONTRACT

Richard Fein

It was legal, all the usual procedures were followed:
the ink in my blood, a proper seal, quality parchment,
the usual lightning and thunder from above.
No mistakes as to the contracting parties,
I dealt with no yes-man underling,
I shook hands with the boss himself.
Cloven hooves, pitchfork, he was in his proper business attire.
He tried all the usual perks:
money, women, chairman of the board of mega-conglomerate inc.,
but I had read Faust.
Then he found his opening, the child.
One of so many, fever above 105,
I had to hold her upright just to breathe.
Prevailed upon a visiting big shot physician,
whose third world tour was being covered by the press.
He tried, the world was watching, but his photo opportunity was lost.
The child had drifted beyond pain.
Was then I hawked my soul, shouted my offer, acceptance, contract.
Done deal, we didn't even do lunch.
The physician reassembled the press, flashbulbs were spent.
The villagers called him great healer. Obviously, I kept my mouth shut.
Now I have the devil to pay.
Payment is due at midnight, the usual hour.
Of all the swindled, I exacted the highest price.
I can take pride in that.



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