As Evil Does

© 2001 Patti Weisgerber
All rights reserved.

They were gone.

High within the stony chamber, the great and evil lord sneered with delicious glee. In a swift and arduous challenge of might and wit, he had banished the desperate, putrid creatures with their decaying flesh and despised stench to reclaim his rightful lair. It had been an exhausting battle, but triumph was his. Now, once again, his temple brimmed with swirling shrouds of steamy air, piercing flame, and the enormity of his mighty malevolence. He was content.

He knew, however, the pleasure of this repose would not endure. Deep in this brief respite, he prepared himself for the impending return of his hated foes and envisioned the torrent of torment he would next unleash upon them: the scorching fires to squelch their mortal breath, the machines of torture to tear their fragile human form. Before him they would crumble in pain and abasement, for they were weak and he was strong; he would extol his price for their sins of sloth and gluttony. All would tremble at his greatness.

Regally, he conjured forth heavy veils of mist and vapor to cloak and protect him as he endeavored to recapture the energy he had previously foresaken. Silence was his solace; he bathed in the isolation. Closing his eyes, he let his mind drift.

But what was this now? Who dared interrupt his solitude?

Through the mist, he regarded the entranceway and there, parading before him, draped in soft white, their skin dewy from the ritual baths, maidens chattered, seemingly unaware of his presence. Who dared ignore his strictest orders barring access?! Who defied him?!

He was enraged. No one was to enter! He had not fully recovered from his previous efforts; he was not yet prepared to deal with them.

With restraint, he cursed to himself and chose to subdue his wrath so it might be better preserved for a future time. Descending from above, he slipped through the cloudy opaqueness, quietly eluding them, and then, before finally departing, turned to ensure he remained undetected.

As he did so, he glimpsed the fairest maiden he had ever seen: one graced with a beauty to ignite his heart. With fleeting gaze, he beheld her and contemplated the day such a maiden would be his. But, now was not the time for distractions–he had more pressing matters to which to attend.

As he made his exit, one of the maidens spoke.

"Good lord," said the one of whom he was most desirous, "who was the freaking masochist in here before us? This place is stifling! Ellie, go find someone to turn the settings down."

"Sure, Rachel," said Ellie, leaving the steam room. "It's like a fog machine rolled in here."

"Yeah, whatever. Nancy, don't stand so close—you're blocking my hydration zone."

"Sorry," replied Nancy. "Hey, what was that?"

Nancy and Rachel peered through the steam.

"I think someone else is in here," Nancy added.

At that, the vapors that had concealed the great and evil lord began to dissolve. He was exposed, his presence betrayed.

"Oh, for Chrissakes, it's George the janitor," exclaimed Rachel.

He froze.

"Hey," shouted Rachel indignantly. "This is lady's hour in the steam room—no male members allowed. And you're no member; you're the freaking janitor. What the hell are you doing here?"

"No wonder the club equipment keeps breaking down," interrupted Nancy. "Lazy incompetence."

George remained mute, tightly clenching the cotton towel covering him.

Rachel continued her interrogation.

"Hmm, sneaking around, keeping quiet—sounds like we should report you. You a peeping tom, Georgie, some kind of perv?"

"Jurgin," he answered, "my name is Jurgin. No, no, I am maintenance engineer."

"Whatever, George," she said. "I asked you a question. What—are—you—doing—here?"

"Mr. Molok, he said I could use steam room before lady's switchover if I cleaned up quickly. I worked fast today—just to try," he explained. "I never tried before. The cleaning sign, it was there." Jurgin pointed to the sign.

"I didn't see any sign, George," said Rachel, "Did you, Nancy?"

"I didn't see any sign. Tcchh, they always have an excuse."

"It was there." He pointed again at the door. "Please, look," Jurgin pleaded, "I am not bad man."

Rachel walked nearer to him.

"He was getting his kicks watching us," she determined. "Weren't you, George?"

"The nerve!" said Nancy.

"No," he cried in his defense.

"And, I bet he wasn't just watching," answered Rachel.

"Disgusting. These types always are."

"Listen up, George," said Rachel sternly. "Mr. Molok is going to know all about this little incident—in fact, everyone is going to know. Spying on the women! So, I suggest you get lost—and quick! Otherwise everyone is going look at you and see the pig that you are!"

"No, please, I am no pig."

"Pig!"

"No, I was taking break. I did nothing wrong! The sign—please, please," Jurgin begged, before fleeing to the safety of the men's locker room and his gray cotton uniform, away from the humiliation.

"You better run, George. I'll have your job for this," Rachel cried out victoriously.

"What was he thinking?" asked Nancy. "As if Molok would allow him the use of our club."

"You know, I think I saw a sign," Ellie demurred, having returned from her task.

"As if I care about signs," proclaimed Rachel, climbing the marble benches to the highest level.

"Well, wasn't that fun?" she inquired. "I've seemed to have made the fool disappear and turned him into a pig all at once. Now, we have the place to all to ourselves for an extra twenty minutes today."

And, ever so slightly, a small smile began to curl deliciously around her lips.

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