Tuesday, October 24, 2006

The Devil's Bargain, operators standing by.


As a general rule of thumb for horror comics: DC Comics ok, EC Comics great, Marvel/Timely Comics full of giant monsters in giant color-coordinated underpants. Strangely, while I've read a lot of each, I think I've barely scratched the surface of DC's scary-time comics, like House of Mystery, Ghosts, or House of Secrets. Even more strangely, I've read a lot of Plop!

Wow, what a dumb buildup to talk about an old Marvel horror reprint comic: Dead of Night #3, circa 1974. Although there is a "Stan Lee presents" at the top, there are no writer credits anywhere in the issue.

The first story, "The Hidden Graveyard" has art by Bob Forgione. Standard monstery twist ending number. Pretty straightforward.

"Waitin' for Satan" has art from longtime Iron Man artist George Tuska, and features the ever-popular deal with the devil. William Burroughs said, and I may paraphrase since I'm going from memory here: "Now, you may encounter the Devil's bargain, if you get far enough. Every soul is worth saving, least to a priest, but not every soul is worth buying. So you can take the offer as a compliment."

Not in this one, though: a down and out sailor declares that he would bargain with the devil for a chance, a break to make it big. The devil offers him that chance, but the first mistake the sailor makes, he'll lose his soul. The sailor counters, if the devil comes for him when he really hasn't made a mistake, he keeps his soul. The devil agrees and gives the sailor a thousand dollars to start.

I'm really not sure what exactly the devil did for him here, actually, except the seed money. Being a shifty bastard, the sailor buys cheap goods to trade to dumb natives to print fake lottery tickets for drunken sailors, a triangle trade of grifting. Eventually the sailor has built up a fortune and won the woman he wanted, who turns out to be a hateful shrew. His business is so big, he worries one little mistake will doom him, so he buys his wife the fur she wanted, for $1500. She says its shoddy and only worth $500, so Satan appears.

But, the sailor points out he hasn't lost $1000, he lost the thousand the devil gave him, not his own money, so he's free. The devil admits defeat, but points out that since he's lied, cheated, and stolen; he's doomed to damnation anyway. And he's in a hellish marriage for the time being to boot. I notice his wife doesn't seem especially surprised to see Satan in the last panel.

I know the 'sell your soul' story is an old standard, a chestnut of all kinds of fiction. My suspension of disbelief snags on one little thing, though: if Satan appeared right now and offered me world domination for my soul, well, then I'd know my little soul was worth the world. Which would make me a little less likely to part with it, despite all my smartass atheism. In fact, while Satan's offer wouldn't prove there was a 'God' or any good in the universe, it would prove there was a 'big bad' to fight against. Huh, now I'm sad I haven't been asked...

Next story was ostensibly the cover story, "While the City Slumbers!" Art by Paul Reinman. The cover, a John Severin number, is way cooler:

Yeah, I pretty much just wanted to scan that cover. I could probably get the price tag off it, but why?

Lastly is "Only a Rose" with art by John Forte, in a very EC-style story, about a wife furious that her husband's being going out nights and refuses to tell her where he's going. Outright refusal, which is refreshingly bold: you know damn well everyone today would make up some halfassed lie about 'out with the guys' or 'working late'or 'vigilante group.' She follows him to a flower shop, where he takes a huge bouquet to a young lady's house. Instead of just stabbing his cheating ass with a potato peeler, she mails the lady a poisoned box of chocolates.

The next day, the husband is unfazed by the death in the headlines, and goes out again that night. The wife sees him pick up more flowers, so another poisoned box goes out. The wife keeps following the husband, and keeps poisoning women, until she receives a knock at the door, and figures the police have finally found her. Instead, it's her husband, with flowers, chocolates, and a watch: he had been working late to make money to buy her the watch.

As the wife starts to feel a slight twinge of remorse for several innocent poisonings, the husband makes his own confession: the flowers and candy are from work, sent back by a lady who fought with her boyfriend...that must be some poison, as the wife ate it on the second panel and is clutching her stomach in fright and panic by the sixth. "Induce vomiting" would probably be your first instinct, but then she'd have to explain why to her husband, then the police, blah blah blah. Better off just sucking it up, and hoping the cops pin it on that tightlipped jackass husband...

1 comment:

Marc Burkhardt said...

Wow, I haven't thought about Plop in years. That was a great comic book.

Oh, and I always wondered if Marvel's non-monster horror stuff was reprinted from the 50s. Didn't seem as contemporary as the House of Mystery to me, though in retrospect I don't really know what that means ...