The Death Of The Scarlet Roses By F. Scott Fitzgerald

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“He told me I could play the guitar once he was done with me,” The boy said rubbing his neck. “Fair enough,” Ray said. He took his leave in the direction the boy had come. He limped down the overgrown dirt road. “See you, mister! Good luck!” The boy waved and took off. With every step, the sweat became more profuse. It smelled like someone was lighting matches. Ray figured The Devil would seek out a location that felt most familiar to him. Either that or he was changing the environment to suit him. The path, while green and surrounded by willows, gradually turned to leafless rosebushes. It was as if someone had set to plucking everything, save for the scarlet roses. “Hold there, boy!” A voice like mercury hissed from behind him. The shock …show more content…

He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it up. “I have to say, the fact that we look so much alike gives me pause,” The Devil said. Other than the pinstripes that Ray was sporting, The Devil wore a white suit of nearly the exact same design. The hat didn’t really go with his ensemble as well as it did with Ray if he did say so himself. While it was true that The Devil and he looked mostly the same, Ray stood a good head taller. “What? I know I’m sexy. There ain’t no shame in looking like me,” Ray said. He flung his jacket over a willow bush. The rush of stale air to his sweat soaked shirt hardly helped at all. “Believe me. There is.” The devil took off his hat and dropped it to the ground. The action exposed two tiny brass horns. “I always thought you’d have to be a smooth talker to get people to give up the ghost, but a snappy dresser too. You are good.” “Yes... Well... My wife told me this was out of style some years ago. I guess I probably should find a new suit.” “You crazy? Naw man, you got it going on. Didn‘t, think you‘d be so short, though. Like a mini-me!” “Here we go,” The Devil growled. “What?” “Every time I meet one of you rhubarb heads it’s the same thing!” “Rhubarb heads? Isn’t that derogatory?” Ray rubbed his temple. He wondered what constitutes a rhubarb head. “And short isn’t? People used to be this tall you know!” “Well, you are short, and my head isn’t made of rhubarb! Can’t you just make yourself taller?” “That’s the problem with you people!

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