Seattle Press on Line - Larry and the Red-eyed Devil

Larry and the Red-eyed Devil

By Patricia J. Geister

Apr 05, 2001 -- Larry Maki, a gentle soul, is a short Hawaiian-Japanese man I have known for the past several years. He once was married to a tall Teutonic woman named Valentina, a totally domineering woman. The Makis invited me to join them for dinner one Saturday in July at their favorite place. It was an appealing idea. They were good company unless they decided to crawl into a bottle, at which point their relations with the world ceased to be friendly.

This particular evening began in fun - until an old gambling buddy of Larry's sent a bottle of champagne to our table. Mix a bottle of champagne with the sake we had already consumed and you've got some drunk people. By the time we left the restaurant we were the funniest trio in town.

"Hey, hey, what do you say? I got a fat girl in town. Who let her get that way?" called out Larry, dancing around the parking lot. Valentina and I laughed and tried to dance too. Everything was so funny. We took turns telling jokes all the way home.

When we got to my house the happy trio was no more. I soon found out that I had the battling Makis on my hands.

"Larry! Larry, sit up. Do you hear me?" Valentina was pulling on his arm.

"I'm sitting up," he mumbled. He hadn't budged from his nearly face down position.

My big malamute dog, Red, came to investigate the commotion. He stood just outside the wide arc of light near the porch quietly wagging his tail, mouth open in a panting laugh.

It took the two of us women to get Larry out of the car. He promptly fell down in the carport. After that, he fell down in the back yard and then on the back porch. While I fumbled with the door key Valentina began berating him, telling him how he embarrassed her.

"I'm ashamed to be seen with you, Larry," she simpered.

"Shut your face, you witch."

"Did you hear that?" she shrieked. "You're drunk! You can't even stand up on your own two feet. How can you tell me I'm a witch?"

"What do you want me to tell you?"

"Don't you tell me anything!" she screamed as she slugged him a good one up side his head with the saddlebag she called her purse.

"Hey, hey! I have to live here after you're gone. Get in the house and quit putting on a show for my neighbors," I said with what might have been a slight slur.

Now Larry was sort of sitting on the porch steps. Again, it took both Valentina and me to get this rubber-legged little guy on his feet and into the house. We half carried him to the living room and deposited him on the couch.

"I want coffee. Make me some coffee," said old rubber legs with a newly found voice of authority.

"Don't you take orders from him! Coffee's not going to help now."

I decided it was a good idea to get away from these two. I retreated to the kitchen to heat the water for a quick cup of instant coffee while they continued their unintelligent tirade.

"Big shot had to drink champagne tonight. Oh, yeah, he had to drink all that sake and then champagne on top of that. Oh, yeah," simpering Valentina said to the sagging form.

Red had managed to follow us into the house. He was enjoying the Maki show. I called him to the kitchen and invited him outside, but he wasn't having it. He was very protective of me, but on this night I think he was fascinated, not protective. Well, so what? He wasn't in anyone's way. I decided to let him be.

When I delivered the coffee all conversation had ceased. Larry was lying down and had made himself comfortable with his shoes on. And he had passed out cold. Valentina was watching him snore. No doubt I had overnight guests.

I led her to my bedroom to find a nightgown she could wear. She stood beside the bed while I looked through some dresser drawers.

Thud.

She wasn't standing beside the bed any more. She was dead to the world and there was no rousing her. Great, just great. Now I had both of them out cold in different parts of the house. No big deal. There were three other bedrooms upstairs.

I returned to the other room to find Red standing over Larry with the attitude of a curious guard. He followed me to the back door. At the last minute he changed his mind about spending his usual night outside, returned to the living room, and glued himself to the carpet. He was a big dog with a mind of his own. Big, as in he could lay down in front of me while I sat on the couch, rest on his forelegs and put his head in my lap. If he didn't want to be moved, I didn't waste time arguing. All right, I thought, I'll probably wake up early and put him out, and upstairs to bed I went.

Red was more than willing to be let out when I woke up the next day. He nudged me with his nose for quite a while before I was really ready to leave my bed. Lucky for both of us it gets light early in July.

I started to go check on my house guests and I heard the sounds of moaning coming from Larry in one room and the sounds of groaning and bitching coming from Valentina in the other. He sounded like he could be sick so I attended to him first. Right, he was sick.

"I'm sorry, I got sick again. I tried to clean it up with a paper."

"Oh, Larry, please don't do that. Don't smear that paper all over the floor. You'll get ink on the carpet. What do you mean again?"

He had picked up a folded newspaper and was feebly trying to clean a spot on the floor. The epitome of death warmed over looked back at me.

"I woke up sometime last night and had to pee. And I was sick. The devil was chasing me."

"The devil? Larry, you were drunk and having a bad dream."

"No, he was here. Right there," doing kind of a back handed wave toward the hearth. He sounded and looked so pitiful. His elbows were on his knees and his head in his hands, which made him all the more pitiful.

I started to laugh. Red was his devil.

"No, Larry." I just couldn't stop laughing. "You didn't see the devil."

"I tell you, I woke up and saw the devil. He's real short and has these shiny, red eyes. I heard him roaring. Oh, God," he moaned.

My laughing probably hurt his head.

"Oh, Larry, Larry."

Red had been sitting by the hearth just far enough away so whatever light came through the gap between the drapes reflected on his eyes. His panting must have sounded like the bellows of hell's fire to a confused, extremely nearsighted drunk.

"I had to pee so bad and the devil wouldn't let me up. Every time I'd make a move, he'd move and I was scared. You should have heard him. Oh, God, I'm going to be sick again, I know it."

"Oh, no, you're not! Not on my carpet, mister. Larry, you know it was my dog. It was Red."

"No," he insisted weakly. "The devil was here and he wouldn't let me pee. He scared me. Please, can I have some coffee?" He was peeking out between the fingers of one hand.

"What's so funny to you two?" demanded Valentina. She had come into the room slowly, holding onto walls and furniture, and plopped down in a chair.

"Lord, I'm in there dying of pain and you're out here dying laughing. Do you have to make so much noise? Are you going to make coffee for the newly dead or not?"

"I'm not laughing. I'm suffering. The devil was here last night. Right here, over there. He's a big noisy bastard. He's got big red eyes." Larry still hadn't summoned the strength to raise his head unsupported.

"What's he talking about?" asked the hungover Teutonic princess.

I laughed again and they both groaned painfully in unison.

"He had a bad dream, that's all. Red wouldn't go out last night and Larry didn't have his glasses on. Can you make it to the bathroom without help?" I asked him.

"Yeah, yeah. Coffee, please. What dog?" Finally I got his attention. He found the strength to raise his head part way.

"Don't tell me you didn't see my dog, Red. Don't you remember?"

"No. I don't know about any dog. The devil was here. Breathed fire. Almost peed my pants. Coffee, please," he pleaded, only now he collapsed backward against the cushions behind his head.

I went to the kitchen and made real coffee while Valentina started, once more, to take advantage of his weakened condition.

"How many times have I asked you not to drink so much when we go out? Tell me, how many times?"

"I don't know. How high can you count?"

When I carried in their medicinal coffee he wasn't in the room.

"Have you seen his glasses? He can't find them. Serves him right, the wimpy little boozer."

"Oh, yeah, that's right. His glasses are missing, aren't they?"

"The devil took my glasses. Took my glasses, cut my head, made me fall down and pee my pants. Scary bastard."

"You wet yourself on my couch? Larry!"

"The devil made me do it."

Then I turned around. He was holding onto the doorway with one hand. I saw a bruise and what looked like a small cut on the side of his right eye.

"My God! What happened to your eye?" I hadn't seen his full face until then.

"I told you. The devil wouldn't let me get up and get to the bathroom. I'd move, he'd move. Once when I tried to move fast and fake him out, he went for me. I got so scared when he hit me I fell off there. I hit the coffee table. He hit me so hard I blacked out. He had big red, shiny eyes, and he breathed fire. He was a big--Mean. He was loud."

Then I really laughed. I could just see this poor man: He wakes up in a strange place. It's dark, he doesn't know where he is. He doesn't recognize anything because he can't see well without his glasses. He's still drunk, he has to go to the bathroom. Only he doesn't know how to find one. There's a fire breathing, red-eyed devil who is holding him at bay. When he decides to make a break for it, the devil charges. Then he falls off his makeshift bed, hits his head and passes out. Like as not Red got bored with this game. When his victim passed out he spent the rest of his night upstairs with me. No wonder he never saw the dog. He saw the devil.

I really was surprised that the man couldn't remember such a big dog. The Makis had been to my house before.

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry. Let me see your head," said the now sympathetic wife. "Poor sweetheart." She crossed the room and patted his cheek.

After finishing our pot of coffee we searched for the missing glasses. They turned up near the back porch. They must have landed there when Valentina slugged the hapless drunk.

They were ready to leave. All seemed to be mended once again.

"We're sorry about all this. Thanks for putting us up last night. Larry is a very superstitious person, Pat. He believes in the devil. If he thinks he saw the devil you'll never convince him he didn't."

"Don't worry about it. Let's not do this again, okay?"

We haven't. They have been divorced about 10 years now and I don't socialize with either of them. Mutual friends told me they met and married spouses more their own size and temperament. I suppose I don't see Larry because he's still scared of big dogs. I don't see Valentina because, in all truth, I can't stand the new worthless big jerk she married.

The devil has never visited my living room again.

Reader Comments

Discuss this article in the forums!

No comments yet!