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NEVER BET THE DEVIL YOUR HEAD
Edgar Allan Poe
NARRATOR-EBBIE PARKER
It is not my design to diminish my deceased friend, Toby Dammit. He was a sad dog, it is true, and he died a dog's death.
The fact is that his precocity in vice was awful. At five months of age he used to get into such passions that he was unable to articulate. At six months, I caught him gnawing a pack of cards. At seven months he was in the constant habit of catching and kissing the female babies. At eight months he refused to put his signature to the Temperance pledge. Thus he went on increasing in iniquity, month after month, until, at the close of the first year, he not only insisted upon wearing moustaches, but had contracted a propensity for cursing and swearing, and for backing his assertions with wagers.
Through this latter most ungentlemanly practice, the ruin of Toby Dammit overtook him at last. The fashion had "grown with his growth and strengthened with his strength," so that, when he came to be a man, he could scarcely utter a sentence without interlarding it with a proposition to gamble. Not that he actually laid wagers- no. I will do my friend the justice to say that he would as soon have laid eggs. With him the thing was a mere formula- nothing more. His expressions had no meaning attached to them whatever. They were simple, if not altogether innocent, expletives- imaginative phrases wherewith to round off a sentence. When he said "I'll bet you so and so," nobody ever thought of taking him up; but still I could not help thinking it my duty to put him down. The habit was an immoral one, and so I told him. It was a vulgar one- this I begged him to believe. It was discountenanced by society- It was forbidden by act of Congress. I remonstrated- but to no purpose. I demonstrated- in vain. I entreated- he smiled. I implored- he laughed. I preached- he sneered. I threatened- he swore. I kicked him- he called for the police. I pulled his nose- he blew it, and offered to bet the Devil his head that I would not venture to try that experiment again.
Poverty was another vice. He was detestably poor, and this was the reason, no doubt, that his expletive expressions about betting seldom took a practical turn. I never heard him make use of such a figure of speech as "I'll bet you a dollar." It was usually…
TOBY DAMMIT-CLIVE REES
I'll bet you what you please. I'll bet you what you dare. I'll bet you a trifle.
NARRATOR-PARKER
Or else, more significantly still…
TOBY DAMMIT-REES
I'll bet the Devil my head.
NARRATOR-PARKER
This latter form seemed to please him best, perhaps because it involved the least risk. Had any one taken him up, his head was small, and thus his loss would have been small too. At all events the phrase in question grew daily in favor, notwithstanding the gross impropriety of a man betting his brains like bank-notes. In the end, he abandoned all other forms of wager, and gave himself up to…
TOBY DAMMIT-REES
I'll bet the Devil my head.
NARRATOR-PARKER
…with an exclusiveness of devotion that displeased and surprised me. I am always displeased by circumstances for which I cannot account. Mysteries force a me to think, and so injure my health. The truth is, there was something in the air with which Mr. Dammit was wont to give utterance to his offensive expression- which at first interested, and afterwards made me very uneasy- something which, for want of a more definite term, I must call queer. I began not to like it at all. Mr. Dammits' soul was in a perilous state. I resolved to save it and awaken him to a sense of his situation. I collected my energies for one final attempt at expostulation.
When I had made an end of my lecture, Mr. Dammit indulged himself in some very equivocal behavior. For some moments he remained silent, merely looking me inquisitively in the face. But presently he threw his head to one side, and elevated his eyebrows to a great extent. Then he spread out the palms of his hands and shrugged up his shoulders. Then he winked with the right eye. Then he repeated the operation with the left. Then he shut them both up very tight. Then he opened them both so very wide that I became seriously alarmed for the consequences. Then, applying his thumb to his nose, he thought proper to make an indescribable movement with the rest of his fingers. Finally, he condescended to reply. I can call to mind only the beads of his discourse.
TOBY DAMMIT-REES
I would be obliged if you would hold your tongue. I wish none of your advice. I despise all your insinuations. I am old enough to take care of myself. Do you still think me a baby Dammit? Do you mean to say anything against my character? Do you intend to insult me? Are you a fool? Does your mother know you are out? Your confusion betrays you, and I would be willing to bet the devil my head that she does not.
NARRATOR-PARKER
Toby Dammit did not pause for my rejoinder. Turning upon his heel, he left my presence with undignified precipitation. It was well for him that he did so. My feelings had been wounded. Even my anger had been aroused. For once I would have taken him up upon his insulting wager and I would have won for the devil Mr. Dammit's little head- for the fact is, my mother was very well aware of my merely temporary absence from home.
It now seemed to me that I had done all that could be required of me, in the case of this miserable individual, and I resolved to trouble him no longer with my counsel, but to leave him to his conscience and himself. But although I forebore to intrude with my advice, I could not bring myself to give up his company altogether.
One fine day, having strolled out together, our route led us in the direction of a river. There was a bridge, and we resolved to cross it. It was roofed over, by way of protection from the weather, and the archway, having few windows, was very uncomfortably dark. As we entered the passage, the contrast between the external glare and the interior gloom struck heavily upon my spirits. Not so upon those of Toby Dammit. He seemed to be in an unusual good humor. He was excessively lively. Nothing would serve him but wriggling and skipping about under and over everything that came in his way; now shouting out all manner of odd words, yet preserving the gravest face all the time. I really could not make up my mind whether to kick him or to pity him. At length, having passed nearly across the bridge, we approached the termination of the footway, when our progress was impeded by a turnstile of some height. Through this I made my way quietly, pushing it around as usual. But this would not serve Mr. Dammit. He insisted upon leaping the turnstile, and said he could cut a pigeon-wing over it in the air. Now this, conscientiously speaking, I did not think he could do. I therefore told him, in so many words, that he was a braggart, and could not do what he said. For this I had reason to be sorry afterward.
TOBY DAMMIT-REES
I’ll bet the Devil my head that I can.
NARRATOR-PARKER
I was about to reply, when I heard, close at my elbow, a slight cough.
DEVIL-MIKE CRAMER
Ahem!
NARRATOR-PARKER
I started, and looked about me in surprise. My glance at length fell into a nook of the frame- work of the bridge, and upon the figure of a little lame old gentleman of venerable aspect. Nothing could be more reverend than his whole appearance; for he not only had on a full suit of black, but his shirt was perfectly clean and the collar turned very neatly down over a white cravat, while his hair was parted in front like a girl's. His hands were clasped pensively together over his stomach, and his two eyes were carefully rolled up into the top of his head.
Upon observing him more closely, I perceived that he wore a black silk apron over his clothes; and I thought this very odd.
DEVILCRAMER
Ahem!
NARRATOR-PARKER
To this comment I was not immediately prepared to reply. The fact is- remarks of this nature are nearly unanswerable. I am not ashamed to say, therefore, that I turned to Mr. Dammit for assistance.
"Dammit, what are you about? don't you hear?- the gentleman says 'ahem!'" I looked sternly at my friend while I thus addressed him; for, to be truthful, I felt particularly puzzled, and when I am puzzled I must knit my brows and look savage, or else I am pretty sure to look like a fool.
TOBY DAMMIT-REES
You don't say so? Are you quite sure he said that? Well, at all events I am in for it now, and may as well put a bold face upon the matter. Here goes, then- ahem!
NARRATOR-PARKER
At this the little old gentleman seemed pleased- God only knows why. He left his station at the nook of the bridge, limped forward with a gracious air, took Dammit by the hand and shook it cordially, looking all the while straight at his face.
DEVIL-CRAMER
I am quite sure you will win it, Dammit, but we are obliged to have a trial, you know, for the sake of mere form.
TOBY DAMMIT-REES
Ahem!
NARRATOR-PARKER
Not another word more than "ahem!" did I ever know him to say after that.
The old gentleman now took him by the arm, and led him more into the shade of the bridge- a few paces back from the turnstile.
DEVIL-CRAMER
My good fellow, I make it a point of conscience to allow you this much run. Wait here, till I take my place by the stile, so that I may see whether you go over it handsomely, and don't omit any flourishes of the pigeon-wing. A mere form, you know. I will say 'one, two, three, and away.' Mind you, start at the word 'away.'
NARRATOR-PARKER
Here he took his position by the stile, paused a moment as if in profound reflection, then looked up and smiled very slightly, then tightened the strings of his apron, then took a long look at Dammit, and finally gave the word as agreed upon-
DEVIL-CRAMER
One- two- three- and- away!
NARRATOR-PARKER
Punctually at the word "away," my poor friend set off in a strong gallop. The turnstile was not very high; upon the whole I felt sure that he would clear it. And then what if he did not?- ah, that was the question- what if he did not? What right had the old gentleman to make any other gentleman jump? Who is he? If he asks me to jump, I won't do it, that's flat; and I don't care who the devil he is.
But what I said, or what I thought, or what I heard, occupied only an instant. In less than five seconds from his starting, my poor Toby had taken the leap. I saw him run nimbly, and spring grandly from the floor of the bridge, cutting the most awful flourishes with his legs as he went up. I saw him high in the air, pigeon-winging it to admiration just over the top of the stile; and of course I thought it an unusually odd thing that he did not continue to go over. Down came Mr. Dammit on the flat of his back, on the same side of the turnstile from which he had started. At the same instant I saw the old gentleman limping off at the top of his speed, having caught and wrapped up in his apron something that fell heavily into it from the darkness of the arch just over the turnstile. At all this I was much astonished; but I had no leisure to think, for Dammit lay particularly still, and I concluded that his feelings had been hurt, and that he stood in need of my assistance. I hurried up to him and found that he had received what might be termed a serious injury. The truth is, he had been deprived of his head, which after a close search I could not find anywhere. The sad truth flashed upon me at once. About five feet just above the top of the turnstile, and crossing the arch of the foot-path so as to constitute a brace, there extended a flat iron bar, forming one of a series that served to strengthen the structure. With the edge of this bar it appeared evident that the neck of my unfortunate friend had come precisely in contact.
He did not long survive his terrible loss. In the end he grew worse, and at length died, a lesson to all riotous livers. I wet his grave with my tears, wove a bar sinister onto his family crest, and, for the general expenses of his funeral, sent in my very moderate bill to the transcendentalists. The scoundrels refused to pay it; so I had Mr. Dammit dug up at once, and sold him for dog's meat.
-The End-
© 2001 Brian Aldrich/PoeForward