The Devil in Cheyenne

Hello out there, sports fans. Here’s Friday Letter #61 for ya.

We saw the Devil Sunday

He was right out in the open, on the sidewalk outside the Plains Hotel in downtown Cheyenne. He crossed back and forth in front of us as we parked the car.

We have seen him before. I’m kind of hoping we don’t see him again. However, he has appeared right in front of us several times through the years, so it’s likely he’ll be back.

When I first saw this poor creature Sunday, I naively assumed he was just another straggler from the Sturgis Rally. He had the requisite tattoos and piercings, the de rigueur sloppy clothes, the morning-after drunken stagger. His feet hurt and he was limping slightly.

At first glance, it appeared the creature had undergone cosmetic surgery for installation of two little horn-buttons, one on each side of his upper forehead.

This particular devil was on the sidewalk near where Laura got out of the car. Being the mannerly lady that she is, she said hello, and the creature responded pleasantly enough.

When I got a closer look (I’m myopic) I began to think there wasn’t anything “cosmetic” about those horns. The experience gave me the shivers, the queasiness of fear.

The Harlequin

Once upon a time on one of our frequent drives through Idaho, we came upon a Harlequin.

He appeared in the lane of traffic ahead of us, in full regalia. He wore the clown’s hat with tassels and bells.

This individual was roller blading down the highway. In his distinctive black-and-white diamond-pattern Lycra tights and shirt, he was quite visible. However, he was either unaware of us or remarkably aloof. He carried no luggage, no backpack or walking staff, and he was empty-handed.

We were eastbound between Picabo and Carey on U.S. Highway 20 in Central Idaho. Believe me, that is way out in the sticks, especially for a person afoot, without a coat or blanket.

Death from exposure is a real possibility out there. It’s a long way to skate to anywhere safe. Our Harlequin stayed eastbound ahead of us in the lane of traffic, and finally, I had to toot the horn to warn him of our approach.

He rolled off to the shoulder, and gave us a demonic glare as we drove past. We both got the creepy crawlies from the experience, and our compared memories are consistent.

At the time, I thought he might simply be a refugee from some wild and crazy party in Ketchum or Sun Valley a few miles north.

I used to live in that area, and seeing a Harlequin wouldn’t be too unusual. I saw Abraham Lincoln there one night, and no one but I seemed to be aware of Honest Abe at all.

Upon reflection, I think our Harlequin might have worn that familiar “funny” hat just to cover a set of horns. Based on our chilly reaction, this could well have been the devil himself.

Crossing paths

A few days back, my path crossed with that of Robert, a former tenant. Robert is a man who pays for one month but stays three or four.

We found out later, Robert has a rap sheet as long as your arm. When I saw him last week, he had stopped at the liquor store. He was driving a 90’s Cadillac, one of those gaudy models with the vinyl padded fake convertible roof, fake wire wheel caps, and fake gold and silver plating on the grill.

Robert is evil in appearance. He wears a goatee shaped to a sharp point. His eyebrows point up at the centers. His eyes flash about in an angry leer. He has a sharp pointed nose and pointy little teeth.

This last time, at the liquor store, I noticed Robert had a small lump on his forehead. Probably a sebaceous cyst, I thought. Yah right, Robert wouldn’t be growing horns now, would he?

The devil in our neighborhood

Laura and I also saw the devil right here in front of our business building. That time, he appeared in the guise of two young women.

We saw the flashing of their eyes and teeth, and an aluminum baseball bat slipped momentarily into view from behind one girl’s winter jacket as she smiled an evil smile.

Moments after we saw the pair, our neighbor Siprisio was murdered by two young girls. Their weapons were – guess what – a metal baseball bat and Siprisio’s own kitchen knife. We had seen two young laughing girls. We didn’t see any horns on their heads. But they were wearing hooded coats that cold winter night.

Later, in a court of law, each young woman stared blankly ahead with vacant eyes, eyes with nothing behind them. The look of the dead.

It seemed to us that Satan had left their bodies but had taken their souls along with him.

It ain’t funny

The Devil, Satan, really is here among us. He wants to demolish our souls. Sometimes he must make an appearance toward that end.

Dressing up like the devil, or having oneself surgically altered to appear as the devil, is not amusing.

The ancient meaning of the French word “Harlequin” is “demon.” It certainly fit our Idaho character, and the label “clown” would fit the poor devil in Cheyenne.

Take comfort, though. Satan is powerless unless we allow his empty promises to fill our heads. Be not afraid. But be cautious.

A delicious lunch

We had driven to Cheyenne for lunch at the Plains Hotel when we saw the devil.

We stopped at a convenient handicapped parking spot just outside the front windows of the Capitol City Grill.

We like the Grill because it conforms to most of the standards I learned in culinary arts school. The dining room is historic, clean and roomy. The restrooms are immaculate. The food is excellent.

Laura chose a salmon salad, and reported very favorably about her meal. I ordered a prime rib sandwich which was full-flavored tender beef served on a toasted bun. It was perfect.

Ding ding, however, I must give the Grill a couple of major dings. Two waitresses were on duty – a longtime employee and a brand-new “girl.”

The new server, on her first day at that job, had been late to work. The other woman was tired and bitter.

The two women quickly began bickering about which tables and how many tables each would serve. I suppose bickering is bound to happen. I only wish they had chosen anywhere else to do it rather than right beside our table.

Perhaps the devil had something to do with it.

Ding ding, Capitol Grill. Wakeup call. Employee orientation is in order. Employees had better not fight in front of customers. Ever. The Devil enjoys bickering.

Word of the week: Lycanthrope. From the Greek, lykanthropos, a wolf. Lycanthropy is a form of mental illness in which the individual imagines himself to be a wolf. Hence, a lycanthrope is a person who imagines or enjoys imagining he is a wolf. The dictionary also says, simply, a lycanthrope is “a werewolf.”

Next week’s word: Sobriquet.

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