Chapter 5: Does That Come With Dipping Sauce?

It was at that moment that Eleni's phone rang. Having incinerated all her dwarves she was forced to answer it herself. "Hello?" she inquired, hoping dearly that it was Manos, or at least not her mother asking when she would visit again.

"Good day, I'm calling on behalf of FirstNorthOneBank, is Ms. Eel-lei-, er, Eel-lei-nah there," asked the gentleman caller, whose primary language was clearly not English, nor any other tongue which could be expressed in the written form without serious damage to the paper. "This is Eleni," she curtly answered, "and if you're calling about a special low rate on balance transfers, I'm not interested."

"Please hear me out," the caller pleaded, "this call may be recorded for quality-control/ass-kicking purposes, and if I don't make my quota today, Ralph Nader will kill me." Eleni thought for a moment, and then ran her fingers lightly across the new "Ask Me About Satan" button pinned to her blouse.

"Sorry," she taunted, "say hello to Ralph when you get to hell." With that, she hung up, but not before hearing muffled screams of anguish before the line cut out. That would be the last time he reached out and touched someone. Yes, Eleni thought, evil is a potent aphrodisiac. She wouldn't be needing raw oysters or the incessant beat of Nine Inch Nails tonight! She retired to her chambers, where she cut her first hash-mark into the bedpost and put an extra quarter in the magic fingers.

Manos did make a call that night, but only for a small pizza with extra anchovies and a side order of those little cheese-sprinkled bread sticks that always made him sick but that he insisted on eating anyway. Would he ever summon the courage to let Eleni know how he really felt? Would he ever summon the strength to get off the couch and go to the bathroom instead of urinating in place? What was it about Eleni that prevented him from expressing his throbbing carnal urges? After all, she had been game, and it was his rejection of her that had turned her to Evil, though he was not yet aware of that. Maybe it was her faint smell of tapioca. The unibrow, though plucked, was still a question mark in his book. And how could he love someone who had once walked past a Scientologist? His mind boggled, and then he noticed the sofa was wet. He had done it again. But he was too embarrassed to summon Torgo and the mop, and he adapted to the presence of the liquid. It was time to jerk off to Buffy again.

Back on Sifnos, Sergei signed on to his computer. He waited patiently for his animated clam pointer to become available, and then again as he clicked through several pop-up offers. "Downloading and installing Gator seemed like such a good idea at the time," he thought to himself. His eBay auction of the West Belgian Crown, complete with letter of authenticity, a free subscription to Entertainment Weekly, and a shoe phone, had brought in several bids. Sergei now only wished he had made the auction a reserve, as the highest bid was $12.95 in Canadian currency. Still, he began typing his congratulatory message to the bidder.

"Dear Lord Burningdeath, congratulations on your winning of the Royal Ancestral Crown of West Belgium. I'm sure it will bring you several hours of amusement and enchantment, although the people of West Belgium may not. I would suggest cleaning the crown with Oxi-Clean regularly, and cleaning the citizenry with Lysol and bullets.

Please send your cashier's cheque for $12.95 plus $200.00 S&H to:

Sergei Sergenstein
666 Evil Lair Road
Sifnos, Greece

I've left good feedback for you and hope to receive the same back. Cheers, Sergei"

The $12.95 would buy him enough ramen to last a lifetime. But was the real cost... his soul?