textfiles/politics/zeeb

"HELL HATH NO FURY..."
    by Jack R. Voltz

    WHERE CAN HE BE? Patty wondered. Frank wasn't at the office and 
he wasn't at the club. IT'S PROBABLY NOTHING. HE'S MAKING A SALES PITCH, 
THAT'S ALL. She wasn't the jealous type, but still...this was the third 
time in a week that she'd called the office and Frank hadn't been there. 
If Patty didn't already know how homely Frank's secretary looked, she'd 
almost swear he was having an affair.

    "When will he be back?" she said, cradling the phone against her neck 
to stir the spaghetti sauce.

    "I don't know, Mrs. Fitzsimmons, sorry. Do you want me to have him 
return your call when he gets in?"

    "No, that's okay. Thanks."
   
    She hung up and dipped a spoon into the spaghetti sauce and tasted it. 
"Blech!  Needs more salt."  She put the spoon down just as the phone rang. 
She juggled the phone against her ear, trying to reach the salt shaker. 

    "Hello?" 
      
    "Is this the Fitzsimmons' residence?"

    "Yes. Who's this?"

    "My name is unimportant. My services, however, are. My company is 
prepared to offer your family a substantial fortune."

    "Fortune?  What are you talking about?"

    "How does $50 million dollars sound to you?"

    Patty almost dropped the phone into the sauce.

    "You're kidding, right?  Who is this?"

    "I'm the man who's going to make your family $50 million dollars 
richer. And all you have to do...is pose for a picture."

    HERE IT COMES, she thought. She considered hanging up the phone 
immediately, but her curiosity got the better of her. "Right. What sort 
of picture?"

    "Oh, don't worry. It's legitimate. Just a family portrait of you and 
your husband."

    "A portrait for $50 million dollars?  C'mon--who're you trying to kid?  
I'm hanging up now..."

    "No--WAIT!  I'm very serious, Mrs. Fitzsimmons. I'm offering you $50 
million dollars, and all you have to do to earn it is pose as a family for 
a picture!"

    "You'll have to talk to my husband," Patty said and hung up the phone.

                            * * *

    When Frank arrived, Patty forgot about the phone call.

    "Okay. Where WERE you at lunch today?  I called and 
called..."

    Frank took off his sport coat and hung it up on the coat rack in the 
hall. "Simon took me out to lunch, that's all. What're you so cranked up 
about?"

    Patty took off her apron and tossed it at him. "Nothing!" She said, 
"Forget it, it's not important."  She started setting the table when the 
phone rang. Frank answered it.

    "Joe's Bar & Grill," said Frank, flashing Patty a grin. "You stab 'em, 
we slab 'em."

    "Mr. Fitzsimmons?"

    "You got him. What can I do you out of?"

    "How would you like to 'do me out of' $50 million dollars?"

    "I'm listening."

    "Good. All you have to do is pose for a family portrait. One picture, 
and you're fifty million dollars richer."

    "Okay, pal. What's the gag?"  Patty looked up. She shot him a 
questioning look and pointed to the phone, mouthing the words: SALESMAN?  
Frank shrugged.

    "It's no gag, Mr. Fitzsimmons, I assure you."

    "Who are you?"

    "My name is B. L. Zeebub. I represent a company called 'Hot as Ice'. 
I'm sure you've heard of us...?"

    Frank covered the phone and whispered to Patty, "You ever heard of a 
company called 'Hot as Ice?'"

    Patty shook her head no.

    "No, pal. We've never heard of you."

    "That's okay. I'd like to make an appointment to see you. Would 
tomorrow evening be okay?"

    Frank looked at Patty and queried, APPOINTMENT?  Patty shook her head 
again, vehemently. Frank dismissed her with a smile and a wave.

    "Okay, bud. Tomorrow at 8 p.m. You got exactly five minutes to explain 
what this is all about. And it had better be good."

    "Thank you, Mr Fitzsimmons!  You won't regret it!"

    "I'll bet..."
   
                            * * *
    
    The following evening, Zeebub appeared at the Fitzsimmons' home at 
8 p.m. on the dot. Frank answered the door.

    "Mr. Fitzsimmons!" the man said, extending a red business card. 
"Thanks for giving me the chance to explain my proposition."

    Frank took the card. It said:
   
                        HOT AS ICE
                       Incorporated
                       ------------
                   B. L. Zeebub, President
                    Phone: (666) 666-6666
    
    Frank pocketed the card and shook the stranger's hand. He was tall 
and lanky; the loose-fitting gray business suit he wore draped over his 
bony frame made him look like a skeleton. He wore a black bowler and an 
ancient-looking pair of spectacles perched atop a hooked beak of a nose. 
He had a long, thin handlebar mustache and a goatee. His lips were wide 
and thin, giving him a cruel look despite the brilliant smile of white 
teeth that contrasted against his dark olive skin. 

    Frank was instantly distrustful. WHAT CAN I DO? he thought. I ALREADY 
AGREED TO LISTEN TO THE MAN.

    "Come in." 

    Frank directed Zeebub to living room and offered him a seat on the 
couch. Zeebub removed his hat and placed it in his lap. He spied a dish 
of assorted candies sitting on the coffee table.

    "Mind if I have one?"  Zeebub said, pointing to the dish.

    "Help yourself. Take as many as you like."

    "Thanks!  I've got a bit of a sweet tooth, I'm afraid..."

    Frank watched in amazement as the man grabbed a large handful of 
the candy and proceeded to stuff every piece in his mouth at once.

    "Preez 'scuze me," Zeebub mumbled. "I reery can't hep m'self..."

    "Forget it," Frank said, looking away, disgusted.

    At last, Zeebub wolfed down the mouthful of candy. "There! That 
hits the spot. Thanks again!"

    "Don't mention it."

    "Now, to business...by the way, where is Mrs. Fitzsimmons?"
    
    "She's not feeling well."  He knew Patty was hiding in the bedroom, 
listening.
    
    "Sorry to hear that.... As I told you on the phone last night, my 
company is prepared to offer you $50 million dollars for a portrait of 
you and your family."

    Frank went to the kitchen and got a beer from the fridge. He popped 
the tab and took a long pull.

    "Let me get this straight...all I have to do is pose for some picture."

    "Yes, of you and your family."

    "...and in return, you're going to give me fifty million smackers?"

    "Exactly," Zeebub said, making sucking noises with his tongue against 
his teeth. "You have it in a nutshell."

    It didn't make sense. Why would anyone in his right mind give $50 
million for a PHOTOGRAPH?  There HAD to be a catch. He pulled the business 
card Zeebub had given him out of his back pocket.

    "Your company..."

    "'Hot as Ice'. Yes?"

    "Where are you based out of?  It doesn't say here..."

    "Our home office is in Hell."

    "Hell?  I think I've heard of that...isn't that in New Mexico?"

    "Er...yes. That's correct. Um...do you mind if I have a few more 
pieces?"  Zeebub pointed to the candy dish. Frank waved his hand, 
absentmindedly.

    "Sure. What type of business are you in?"

    Zeebub jammed another handful of candy into his mouth. "We shell rife 
'nsuresh."

    "What?"
    
    Zeebub gulped twice. Frank was almost positive he saw two distinct 
lumps zipping their way past Zeebub's prominent adam's apple. "Pardon me. 
We sell life insurance."

    "What the hell..."
   
    "Excuse you."
   
    "...would a life insurance company want with a family portrait?  And 
why would they pay $50 million dollars to get it?"

   "Good question. Let me explain..."

                            * * *
  
    It was all a promotional gimmick. Zeebub's said his company wanted to 
improve its image. In exchange for the use of his name and a portrait 
photo of himself and Patty, they were going to pay him fifty million 
dollars. It would all be made public, of course. He and his wife would 
become the 'poster family' of Hot as Ice Insurance Company.

    "Are you serious?" Frank said, finishing his third beer.

    "Absolutely."

    "There's got to be something more to it."

    Zeebub reached into his coat and pulled out several sheets of paper. 
"Well, actually, there are a few minor details..."

    "I knew it..."

    "A trifle, really. All you need to do is sign this contract."  Zeebub 
walked over to the counter, unfolded the contract, and spread it out on 
before Frank.

    Frank bent over to examine the document. "I can't read this," he said, 
squinting. "The print's too fine."

    "My apologies. It was the Accounting Department's idea; something about 
cost effectiveness. You don't need to read it, really. All it says is that 
by accepting the money, you grant my company full and exclusive rights to 
the use of your names, likenesses and so forth."

    "Sounds reasonable."

    "The only reason we need it at all is because we've had problems 
before."

    "Oh?  What kind of problems?"

    "A young couple decided to take off after they got the money. Didn't 
fulfill their part of the bargain. But we're sure you and your wife are 
honest people. The contract is a mere formality."

    Frank got another beer out of the fridge. "Fifty million dollars...
just for the use of my name and photograph..."

    "That's right," said Zeebub, reaching into his coat. "As a matter of 
fact, I have the check right here."  Zeebub held up a large red check. 
Frank could clearly see the amount box. A five and seven zeroes. YEP, 
THAT'S FIFTY MILLION ALL RIGHT...

    "Of course, there's a little travel involved..."

    But Frank didn't pay attention. His eyes were glued to the check. As 
he sipped his beer, his mind raced with the possibilities. He'd never 
have to work again in his life! Patty would have a secure future. They 
could start planning that family they'd always wanted. He could buy his 
parents a new house. Hell, he could buy everyone in the family a new 
house and a new car!  Fifty million--a king's ransom. 

    "Where do I sign?" he said. In his haste, he knocked over the can of 
beer, spilling its contents on the counter and over the contract. Suddenly, 
Zeebub's face was transformed into a mask of sheer hatred. The brilliant 
smile disappeared, replaced by a livid sneer.

    "You FOOL!" Zeebub snarled. "Give me something to wipe this off!"

    Frank grabbed a handful of paper towels from the dispenser over the 
sink and handed them to Zeebub, who dabbed the contract gingerly, sopping 
up the beer.

    "I'm sorry," Frank said. "I hope I didn't ruin it..."

    Patty appeared just as Zeebub finished wiping off the counter.

    "What's going on?" she said, concerned.

    Zeebub was calm again, the anger vanished from his face. He flashed 
her his toothy smile. "Nothing, Mrs. Fitzsimmons. Just a little accident, 
that's all. Your husband was about to sign this contract."

    Frank took Patty aside as Zeebub waved the contract in the air to dry 
it. "We're going to be rich!" Frank whispered. "It's all legit. All we 
gotta do is sign that contract."

    "Have you read it yet?"

    "Not yet, but Zeebub assures me it's just a bunch of legalese to 
protect the company."

    Zeebub placed the contract back on the counter. He produced a blood-red 
fountain pen from his jacket. "I believe you were ready to sign?"

    "You bet!" Frank said. He reached for the pen, but Patty pulled him 
back.

    "Will you pardon us for a minute?" she said, tugging Frank's arm. "I 
need to talk this over with my husband."

    "Of course," Zeebub said. "Take all the time you need."

    "We'll be right back," Frank smiled. "Don't go away!"

    Patty dragged Frank into the bedroom and closed the door. "Are you 
crazy?" she whispered. "Never sign anything until you read it first!"

    "What's the matter with you?  I saw the check!"

    "I'm not talking about the money...I'm concerned about what we have to 
do to get it!"

    "Simple!  We sign the contract...they take our picture. That's it!"

    "That can't be all."

    "Well, no...I think he said something about travel...they probably 
will want to take us on tour. You know, grand opening ceremonies, stuff 
like that."

    "That's it!"

    "What?"

    "Don't you get it?  I heard what he said about this being a promotional 
gimmick; we'll probably be on tour for the rest of our lives!"

    "So what!  Hell, for fifty million dollars, I'll go anywhere they want 
me to go!"

    "Frank..."

    But Frank was already out the bedroom door. By the time Patty caught 
up with him, he had already signed the contract. Frank handed her the pen.

    "C'mon, babe. Sign it so he can give us the check!"

    Patty looked at the contract, then Zeebub, who was standing next to 
Frank with a smug look on his face.

    "I hope you know what you're doing," she said to Frank.

    "C'mon, sign the damn thing already!"

    Zeebub lifted the top two sheets and pointed to the bottom of the third 
page, just below where Frank had signed. "Sign here," he said, waving the 
check, "and this will all be yours..."

    Suddenly, the front door flew open and a young, well-built man in a 
gleaming white suit stepped inside. "Stop!" he cried. "Don't sign that 
contract!"

                            * * *

    "Stay out of this, Michael," said Zeebub. "He signed the contract 
already, fair and square."

    "Who are you?" Frank asked the blonde-haired youth. "What are you 
doing in my house?"

    "I cannot help you, sir. You have already signed the contract."  
Michael glanced at Patty. "But you, miss...if you know what's good for 
you, don't do it."

    Patty looked at the newcomer, then at Frank. "What do I do? I'm 
confused."

    Michael walked over to the counter, pulled a magnifying glass out of 
his jacket, then handed it to Patty. "Read the contract," he said. "You'll 
understand."

    "Now wait just a minute!" cried Zeebub. "You know that's against the 
rules!"

    "Rules?" Frank said, bewildered. "What rules?"

    "The rules have changed, Zeebub."

    Patty began to read the contract. Even with the magnifying glass, she 
had to strain her eyes. THE PARTY OF THE FIRST PART, HEREAFTER REFERRED TO 
AS 'THE COMPANY'...

    "What do you mean, changed?  The Chief never changes the rules..."

    ...AGREES TO GRANT THE PARTY OF THE SECOND PART, HEREAFTER REFERRED 
TO AS 'THE CLIENT'...

    "Sorry. Didn't you know?  There's been a leveraged buyout..."

    ...THE SUM OF FIFTY MILLION DOLLARS. IN RETURN, THE CLIENT SHALL GRANT 
THE COMPANY EXCLUSIVE RIGHTS...

    "Leveraged buyout?  How could he?  He promised me no interference!"

    ...TO ONE (1) FAMILY PORTRAIT, PLUS ENDORSEMENTS, FOR PROMOTIONAL 
CONSIDERATIONS...

    Michael shrugged. "You knew what you were getting into."

    Zeebub took Frank by the arm. "He hasn't won!  This one was signed!"

    "Hey!" said Frank, trying to pull away from Zeebub's surprisingly 
strong grip. "That hurts!"

    ...PLUS CLIENT GRANTS THE COMPANY FULL OWNERSHIP OF TWO (2) INCORPOREAL 
ENTITIES, HEREAFTER REFERRED TO AS SOULS... 

    Patty looked up from the contract. "Frank, this says..."

    "...that I now own his soul," Zeebub finished. "And yours, too!"

    "But I didn't sign!" cried Patty.

    "It doesn't matter."

    Frank eyes had a glazed look. "What the hell..." he said.

    "Excuse you," said Zeebub.

    "I must protest," said Michael. "Coercion is not allowed."

    "But my dear Michael. It's right here in the contract. Her signature 
was only a formality."  Zeebub handed Michael the contract and the 
magnifying glass. A minute later, Michael looked up at Patty with a sad 
expression on his face.

    "He's right," Michael said. "Your husband has signed for both of you."

    Patty noticed the temperature of the room starting to rise. She 
watched, horrified, as her home metamorphosed into a foul-smelling, 
flaming cavern.

    "Welcome to Hell," Zeebub said to Patty. "I thought you might like 
to see a sample of what's in store for you after you spend that check. 
Of course, it may take you fifty years, but I can wait. I've got plenty 
of time."

    Zeebub snapped his fingers and a small red demon appeared from out 
of nowhere.

    "Yes, Boss?" said the demon.

    "Take them on the grand tour, Azaroth. They're both going to be with 
us for a looooooooong time. I want them to feel right at home."  Zeebub 
turned to Michael, flashing one of his most dazzling smiles. "Sorry, old 
chum, but you've lost this one. They're mine now."

    Suddenly, Patty's anger got the best of her. When Zeebub shifted his 
attention to Michael, she reached over, and with a lightning-quick 
movement, snatched the contract from his hand.

    "Hey!  Give that back!"

    Patty paid him no attention. Azaroth moved forward, as if to grab the 
contract back, but Michael stepped between the demon and Patty. 

    "None of that, Azaroth," said Michael.

    "But the contract...!" Zeebub whined.

    Patty tore the contract in half, then into quarters, then again into 
eighths. Immediately, the hellish cavern and the demon disappeared, and 
she found herself once again standing in her kitchen. She tossed the pieces 
of the contract on the floor at Zeebub's feet.

    "There's your stupid contract!"

    "Excellent move!" Michael said. "Congratulations."  Then, to Zeebub, 
"Let's go, Lucifer. I believe your services are no longer wanted here."

    Zeebub stared at the scraps of paper on the floor, shaking his head 
slowly. "You know something, Michael?  I'm beginning to hate this job..."

    Michael put his arm around the Zeebub's shoulders and led him to the 
front door. "What can I say?  You knew what it would be like when you 
bought the company. CAVEAT EMPTOR."

    "But she cheated!"

    "So did you."

    "I'm supposed to cheat. It's my job. And how did she DO that?"

    Patty smiled and hugged Frank. Together, they watched Zeebub and 
Michael walk out the door. Just before they disappeared, she overheard 
Michael say, "I'm surprised at you, Zeebub. Don't you know that `Hell 
hath no fury like a woman scorned?'"

Copyright 1994 Jack R. Voltz
=========================     # # #     ==================================                            
Jack Voltz is a part-time writer with one prior fiction credit ("Once A 
Liar...", Midnight Zoo magazine -- accepted and waiting for publication), 
plus one non-fiction publication ("Electronic Writers' Groups, Writers' 
Journal, Vol 14, No. 5, pp 52, 18, 29). He has also had numerous essays and 
articles published in local newspapers, including the Wheeling Intelligencer, 
the Martins Ferry Times-Leader, and the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. Jack has
been interested in writing fiction since junior high school. He is an avid 
reader of all types of fiction. His hobbies include computer programming, 
chess, electronics, and astronomy.
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