“Look at this priceless diamond,” the salesman said, standing there wearing a black two-piece suit and bright yellow shoes. “It can be yours for only $69.99.”
That sounded pretty cheap, Ian thought. Was it really a good price? Or just a con?
Ian sat in front of his television watching Merchandise, Inc., a show that came on every Tuesday night at eight o’clock. Since he had started watching it two weeks ago, he had become very interested in their offers.
The show was addicting; because the more he watched it, the more he liked it. He loved to see all of the merchandise for sale from clothing to furniture to bikes to tools to whatever. After watching it for while now, he was ready to buy something. With his remote in one hand and his credit card in the other, he was ready to shop.

Living alone, Ian didn’t have to worry about answering to anyone - not even a wife or a girlfriend. The only family that was still living was his mother. Even though she was a hundred miles away, he made sure to stay in touch with her by phone, calling her at least a couple of times a week.

For the past three months she had been ill with some unknown disease. According to the doctor it was slowly eating away inside of her, like maggots on a rotted piece of meat. Ian was worried that she may not have much longer to live, since his father had gotten the same thing, some, five years back. Then dying two years ago.

“So, friend, would you like to own this ring? It could be a nice gift to someone,” the salesman said, standing there with his wide eyes and his cheesy grin that seemed to take up most of his face.
Should I buy? Or not? Ian wondered.
“Tell ya what, friend, if you call within the next
hour, I’ll give it to ya for $49.95. That’s one helluva price! Don’t you think? Call the operator at 1-800-999-SOLD! And be sure to tell’em Jimmy sent ya!”
What a killer deal, Ian told himself. I can send it to my mom. She’d love it! Ian picked up his cell phone and started punching in the numbers.
“Hello. Merchandise, Inc. Can I help you?” the pleasant voice of a woman asked.
“Yes. I would like to purchase the diamond ring that’s for sale.”
“Sure. Do you have the number to that particular item?”
Ian gave it to her.
“Thank you.” A pause, as he heard her type on the keyboard. “May I ask who I am speaking with?” 
“Ian Powers.”
“Thank you.”
Ian gave his name, address, zip code, phone number, and his credit card number. Within a week he received his ring. He even took it to a local jeweler to get it appraised, just out of curiosity.
It was worth a lot more than what he had originally paid, too.

On that very the same day, he sent it priority mail to his mother. Right after she received it, she called to thank him. It made Ian feel good inside. He was glad that it had cheered her up, because she had been so depressed about being ill whenever he would speak to her.
“Ian, now you know that you’ll get my house when I die,” his mom would say. “Don’t let the bank take it, honey. There’s too many memories here of your father and you. Will be some left over from me, too, when I go see God.”
“Sure, mom. But please don’t talk like that.”
“Well, Ian, gotta face facts, honey. I ain’t gonna be around much longer. I think the Devil’s tryin’ to steal my soul! He knows that it belongs to God, not him! Cause I’m makin’ sure that it’s delivered to God Almighty!”
Ian hated when she’d talk like that. He didn’t want her to die. Didn’t like to hear it.

When the following Tuesday rolled around Ian’s eyes were glued to the television set, hoping that they would have a nice set of golf clubs to buy. Golfing was one of his favorite things to do on his off days, besides drink a few and relax in his pool.
As long as the sun stayed out and the rain held off, that is.
“Our first item being sold is a very rare vase, ladies and gentlemen of TV land, and it has a very unique kind of writing across it.” Jimmy stood there in his black two-piece suit, now wearing gold colored shoes. “Greek? Hebrew? I don’t know myself, folks, but I’m sure there is someone out there that’ll know. I’m sure of it! Folks, this light blue vase is a great gift idea for anyone! Or, better yet, it could be on display in your own home for only $100.00.”

Jimmy‘s were eyes wide and a large cheesy grin spread below his pointy nose. His face gave off a rather chilling look, though. As if you could see through his flesh, and see the highlights of the skull. Ian thought that it just may be the TV that did it.

The vase was nice, but he let it slide, because he really wanted some golf clubs. And as the show progressed, Jimmy brought out another vase – kind of plain without any writing on it - a nice set of silverware, a weight bench, an authentic fur coat, and last, but not least: golf clubs.
“This set of golf clubs would make a fine present to
any golfer. Or, you know, it doesn’t necessarily have to be
given to anyone. You could use it for yourself. I’m sure there’s someone out there who would want this. Isn’t there?”
It was as if he was speaking directly to Ian with his eyes wide, looking deep into his flesh, making the hairs stand up on the back of his neck.
“The clubs come in this white, elegant, leather bag with fourteen-carrot gold laced around the top and bottom.” They glistened beautifully in the light. “We’ll even put your initials on the bag for you. How’s that?”  Jimmy’s face still captured that chilling look.
This is great! I’ve gotta have ‘em! Ian thought to himself.
“We’ll let it go for...” Jimmy placed his long finger to his lips, tapped them, and rolled his eyes upward, towards the ceiling. “Let’s see, now...How about a whopping $300.00! Sound fair enough?”
“Wow, that’s a steal!” Ian said out loud.
“Hey, it’s a steal, folks!” Jimmy said.
Ian picked up his cell phone and called.

For the next six weeks, he bought everything from clothing to household items to sporting goods to jewelry. But soon, his credit card was to its limit and, for some reason, the show wouldn’t take a check or a money order. Ian found that odd.

And the check that he sent to cover the credit card bill wouldn’t clear for a week or so.
So, he had to find a way to obtain more items. He was addicted to shopping like a drug addict was to heroin from their favorite syringe. Everything that he bought he either needed, or always wanted.

One day, Ian had been sitting at the kitchen table
balancing his checkbook and making out bills when the show came on again. Usually, he remembered to change the channel. But this time he forgot. He had been watching other shows, trying to keep his mind occupied from thinking about buying anything else.
Ian grabbed the remote, and changed the channel. But it was on another channel. He hit the button again It was on another.

He kept clicking the button on the remote over and over, but it still displayed the same thing: Merchandise, Inc.Ian thought that he was hallucinating. Had to be. But, he wasn’t.

“Hello ladies and gentlemen of TV land, your good ol’ buddy Jimmy’s here to sell you some great deals.” Jimmy stood there with his two-piece suit on, blue shoes with polka dots, and his exceptional, infamous, cheesy grin. “Great deals indeed! Now, I know you’ll wanna buy them ‘cause, I wanna sell them to ya!”
This is impossible, Ian thought, something has got to be wrong with the TV.

“You know, I bet there are people out there that are saying, ‘My credit card is to the limit and I’m all out of money.’” Puckering out his bottom lip, he said this in a childish tone, as if he had lost the puppy that he loved the most in the big ‘ol wide world.
“But never fear!” His tone switched back to adult and he stuck his index finger up in the air. “Jimmy’s here! Folks, you do have something to give! Something very valuable!”
“I haven’t got anything to give,” Ian said out loud, then wondered why he was talking back to the TV.
“Well, believe me, dear friend, you can give something.” Jimmy cheesed his infamous grin, and seemed as if he was speaking directly to Ian. Again.
“I don’t have anything to give, Jimmy! I’m out of this game!” Ian shouted and hit the button to shut off the television.
But it didn’t turn off.
Again he tried. And again it did not shut off. Ian hit the button over and over, realizing that it did nothing at all.
“Oh poor, poor, Ian. No money, huh?” Jimmy asked with his face hung down and his chin touching his tie and his arms hung down to his sides. His eyes stared at Ian.
“Huh?” Ian looked at Jimmy, confused. Did he just say my name?
“C’mon! Let’s make a deal, brother! What do you say?” The camera panned in on a close-up of Jimmy’s face. “One helluva deal, Ian!”
Ian just sat there dumbfounded. This can’t be real. No way.
As if he could hear what Ian thought, Jimmy said, “Ian, this is real, my man! Listen: Me. Myself. Jimmy. I am
talking to you.” The camera panned backward, leaving Jimmy’s oval face, and showing his full frame. “Let’s deal! Come on!” His eyes sparkled deviously as he said the words.
“I’m dreaming. That’s what it is. I’ve fallen asleep on the couch.”
“Ian, good buddy. Pal. Chum. I’m sorry, but this as real as that remote in your hand. Or even the picture of the landscape over your couch. Look: I want to talk to you about how you can get what you want. Because we, at Merchandise, Inc., want to fulfill your destiny - your dreams if I might add! What if I told you that you could get whatever you want for a small price? How ‘bout that?”
Ian stood there, speechless. Still thinking that he was dreaming. But he wasn’t.
“Well? I’m waiting for your answer.” Jimmy crossed his arms and patted his foot. “C’mon! Cat got your tongue?” He persisted and Ian did not like it. Didn’t like his tone, either. But, as curious as he was, Ian wanted to know. He yearned to ask what Jimmy would want.
And, he did.
“Okay,” Ian said, and sighed. “Tell me.”
“You ever heard the expression, ‘I’ll give my right arm for that car?’ or ‘I’ll give my left leg for that house?’ Sure you have! I can see it! Hell, I bet you’ve even said it a time or two. Am I right?”
“What are you getting at, Jimmy?” Ian could see the answer coming like a freight train at top speed. He knew what it was. Hated to hear it as it was barreling down the
tracks of Jimmy’s tongue.
“You know, I hear that your mother’s dying of a rare disease - it’s not curable, is it? She’ll be dead in a year or so, won’t she? She’s what? 56? That’s still young, brother. She deserves to live longer. Don’t you think so, Ian?”
He didn’t want her to die. Not yet.
“What do you want from me? What will keep her alive longer?”
And here came that freight train. Full steam ahead.
“Well, let’s just see what my boss has to say. Huh?” He looked over to the right, as if he was looking past the cameraman at someone. Smiled. Nodded. Then looked back at Ian. “How about your left eye? You haven’t had any trouble with it lately, have you? It won’t be much to keep your mother alive, would it? We’ll even throw in an eye patch. How’s that?”
“I don’t know, Jimmy. I don’t know. Can I trust you to
fix her problem? Or is this a trick?” Ian still didn’t understand any of this. Much less comprehend it. Too freakin’ weird.
How the hell could someone in a TV talk to you?
“This is no trick, Ian. We, at Merchandise, Inc., do not trick people. We’ll give you our word. Look at all of the things that you’ve bought! They were very under priced, right? They weren’t stolen, either. If so, we wouldn’t be able to run a respectable business and be on TV...Oh, wait a minute, my boss is telling me something...Hang on...” He looked over to the right again, smiled, and nodded like before. “My boss was telling me that when the doctor sees her again, he’ll flip! So. Do we have a deal?” Now Jimmy looked anxious. Fidgety.
Ian thought for a moment. Mom could be better. That would be great! “All right. So how does this work? Do I cut it out myself or what?”
“Oh, no, no. Don’t worry about all of that. We’ll do it for you. It’ll be quick – but I’m sorry to say - painful. All you need to do is to put your face in front of the TV and we’ll do the rest. Okeydokey?”

Following Jimmy’s instructions, he kneeled down in front of the television screen. He was scared not knowing what was actually going to happen. Actually, terrified. What on Earth had he just agreed to?
“Now sit very still. Very still. Are you ready?”
“I guess s-”
His words were cut off quickly as the screen turned
pitch black. A small mechanical extension with a blade at the end shot out, cleaved into his eye, and made a swift 360 degree turn. Warm blood ran down his face. He screamed.

Before he could even blink his remaining eye, before he could even catch another breath, another extension came out with a needle and cauterized his wound. Then, a bandage and an eye patch were initiated.
“Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Jimmy asked, as the screen flipped back to the show.
Ian just sat there, still screaming, feeling as if his vocal cords were going to snap. And then, passed out.

•

He woke up four hours later to find the screen snowy. He rose up and turned it off and went into the kitchen. Grabbed a half of a bottle of whiskey out of the cabinet, sat down in a chair, unscrewed the top, and drank a gulp. A nice burning sensation trailed down his throat, all the way to his stomach.

His eye socket ached. Throbbed. His mind tried to swallow all of it, but somehow, could not.
How could people actually talk through the TV?
How could some sort of machine come through the screen and rip into someone’s eye socket?
Tired of trying to comprehend it all, he went to bed.

•

At work the next day everyone asked him about his eye. He told them that he had had an accident. Surprisingly, they bought the lie and went about their business.
Later, when he arrived home, he decided to inspect his wound.

Standing in front of his bathroom mirror, he took off his bandage. He was in shock. The wound was healed up so good, that it seemed as if there hadn’t even been an eye there at all. As if it had never existed. The socket was just a sunken hole. No blood. No dead skin. Perfect.
This sent a chill through him. How could this be?
Again, his mind couldn’t comprehend it.

•

Two weeks passed and Ian’s mother discovered that her illness was in remission, leaving the doctors baffled. A miracle. Ian was happy, as well as relieved. A huge weight lifted off of his chest.

Of course until things got worse, and she had a massive stroke.
Ian took two weeks off and flew down to see her in the hospital. The stroke had almost taken her life. The doctors had thought that she was lucky, but another would surely put her six feet under.
Eventually, she was released from the hospital and Ian stayed with her.

One night, while watching TV in his old childhood bedroom, Merchandise, Inc. came on. He hadn’t seen it in months, and hadn’t even thought about it.
But now it was him, the TV, and Jimmy.
“Hey, Ian, how are ya? Man! You don’t look so good!” Jimmy stood dressed in his black two-piece and wore neon colored shoes. “What’s the matter ‘ol buddy?” Jimmy’s eyes sparkled.
“My mom isn’t doing well. You probably already know that, right?”
“Well, yeah, as a matter of fact I do. And do you know what else? I think that it’s possible that it’ll happen again. Maybe not right away. Maybe not in this hour. Maybe not this month. Maybe not this year. But you know as well as I do, it will sooner or later,” he said, grinning. Then he asked, “Hey, by the way, how’s your eye? A little blurred on one side?” Jimmy chuckled and it pissed Ian off. Why did Jimmy say that something else could very well happen sooner or later? Ian wondered what else was going to happen. He loved his mom. He did not want something worse than her stroke attack her.
“Hey, man, cheer up. I’ve got good news for ya!”
“What is it?” Ian could really care less, though he knew what was coming. The freight train had arrived into the station once again with a big white metallic grill like Jimmy’s huge cheesy grin.
“Wellll...it’s a deal mostly.” Jimmy said, cheesing.
“Let me guess: You want my other eye to keep my mom from having another stroke. Right? I really don’t know how you healed my mother. I can’t figure it out; though, I’m not suppose to, am I? Who are you people, anyway? Are you supposed to be saints or something?”
Jimmy’s grin slowly faded.
“Ian, it really doesn’t matter who we are does it? If you want to call us saints, then we are. Some people do. Look: We know that your mother is all you have in this world, and that’s why we want to help. I know we may ask for weird things in return, but they’re for a good cause. Believe me, they are. They’re for the unfortunate ones that have lost an eye or a limb. We’re sorta like a social service for the crippled.”

Ian had never seen this part of Jimmy before. Mostly, it’s been devilish. Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe he was a saint in a weird, morbid, frightening sort of way.
And sadly, Ian bought the charade being the push-over that he was.
“Okay, Jimmy, what do you want? Just save my mother, please. Don’t let her die.”
“That’s the spirit, Ian!” Jimmy’s excitement returned and his eyes were wide again. “I’m so glad that we see eye to eye on this! Although, for you, it’s only one eye. Sorry, Jussst kiddin’, pal!”
Ian did not like that comment. But he swallowed his anger.
“Okay,” Jimmy began, rubbing his hands together, “this is what we’ll do for you: cure your mom of any strokes that could happen in the near future. She’ll never have one again. Ever. It’ll be a God-send! How ‘bout that?”
Ian liked the deal. His mom would be free of strokes for the rest of her life. No more worries. No more stress.
“All we’re gonna ask for, is one of your lungs and your left arm. Let’s see...You’re right handed, correct?”
“Yes, I am. But how am I gonna explain not having an  arm?”
“No problem. We’ll give you a fake one and it’ll just stay in a sling. You could say that you broke it. As for your lung, no one will miss it except you. Don’t worry, you’ll still be able to breath.”
Ian thought about this. He wouldn’t have an arm anymore and he would have to get used to it. It would be depressing. He would have to change the way that he did certain things at work and at home. No more golfing.
What about his breathing? Would it be different, too? Would he have trouble taking breaths? Become asthmatic?
Those thoughts passed through his mind and out because he knew what he had to do: keep his mother alive. No matter what.
“Okay, Jimmy, let’s get this over with.”

Ian closed the door to his room, took a handkerchief out of his pocket, and stuck it into his mouth to deaden his screams so he wouldn’t wake his mom.
“All right, Ian, just sit down in front of the TV like last time and don’t move. Hey, good idea with the handkerchief! We’ll start with your lung.”
Within seconds after following Jimmy’s instructions, the TV turned pitch black again and the same kind of extension shot out shearing into Ian’s chest, ripping open a gash while his screams - though muffled - filled the air. Blood painted the hardwood floor dark red.
Another extension came out with a claw, reached
inside, and pulled out his lung. The wound was sewn up by yet another extension.
“Now hold out your arm, Ian.”
Wincing in immense pain, moaning and sweating, he did as he was told.
An extension withdrew from the screen resembling a huge, razor sharp, meat cleaver. One swipe sliced his arm off at the shoulder. The wound was quickly sewn up and an artificial limb was put into place.
“Well, there you are. Now you have a new arm,” Jimmy
said. “I gotta go, buddy. Take care and I’ll see you soon!”
On that note Jimmy waved bye-bye, grinned his infamous grin, while the highlight of his skull pressed against the surface of his skin, and TV shut itself off.
And then Ian passed out. Again.

•

He woke up the next day and found himself in bed, not knowing exactly how he had gotten there. His handkerchief was on the floor and the TV was off. All of the blood had been cleaned up, too.

He rose up out of bed and examined his wounds. They were fixed up, as well as his eye. The artificial arm was almost real to the touch and stayed in the sling. His breathing was shorter, too. Not having that lung definitely made a difference.

But something that horrified him, and was shocking, was that there were no traces of any cuts. It was just like his eye being non-existent.

Over the next four weeks his mother recovered well, without any problems.
But when the sixth week rolled around, she was back in the hospital.

She had had a heart attack while shopping at the mall. Two paramedics on duty – though, eating lunch while sitting in the parking lot- saved her from dying. The doctors told Ian that she had been a lucky woman because the next attack could be fatal.

Tuesday came and Ian was watching his favorite show at his mother’s house again, ready to deal. His mother was still in the hospital and the worries and stress had crawled back under his skin.
“Hey, Ian, your mother’s a little under the weather again, isn’t she?” Jimmy said and stood there in his dark tow-piece suit, wearing blood-red colored shoes.  
“Yeah, Jimmy, she’s in the hospital. But you already knew that. Right?”
“Yes I do, ‘ol buddy. But, you know something? I see more heartache ahead. More suffering. More despair. So, let’s deal again!” Jimmy held his hand out, palm up, and an object lowered, displaying a chilling surprise.
“What have you got, Jimmy?” Ian froze.
“What we have here, Mr. Powers, is a heart. Not just any ordinary, everyday heart. Its owner is somewhat very close to you. Very close indeed! Can you guess who?” Hanging in mid-air, it thump-thumped, but was skipping beats. Drops of blood shot out every other second.
“What the hell are you doing? YOU’RE GOING TO KILL HER!” Ian shouted.
Jimmy’s face slowly changed. The flesh sunk back, plastering against his skull, thinning out his face. His eye sockets held red eyes, and below his shrunken nose he cheesed his infamous grin. Sharp teeth stuck out of the gums.
“Ian, I’m in desperate need of something this time. It will be something that will make my collection complete. If you want her to live, you will give it to me.”
The heart thump-thumped through the television’s speakers. Vibrating the frame. And still skipping beats.
“What is it, Jimmy? What? What do you want now?”
“Your very existence that keeps you on Earth, my friend. Why, your soul! I want to be mortal again. I need my freedom! I DESERVE IT!” Jimmy’s voice rose, the last
words echoed off of the walls in Ian’s room.
For years Jimmy had been a slave of a dark demonic creature; now, it was time to trade up and become human again. A mortal.
“My soul?” Ian said. Confusion, fear, and anger ran through his veins. It was hard for him to take it all in. “I should have known. I should have KNOWN!” He was feeling like an idiot. “I’m selling my soul to the friggin’ Devil!”
“Well if you really want to put it that way, I guess that’s feasible,” Jimmy agreed. “We’re not actually the Devil’s associates, but I guess that is a good way to put it.”
The heart thump-thumped on the screen. Missed beats.
Ian couldn’t believe that it would ever come to this. How had he been tricked! Taken for a fool! He had to keep his mother alive. He just had too!
“Okay, Jimmy, you win. Damn you!”
“Ian, you’ll be okay here. Trust me, ‘ol buddy. Trust me! It’ll be hard to get used to, at first - but you’ll fit in. I guarantee it!” Jimmy grinned, delighted. “Ian, I was just like you years ago. My addiction to drugs cost me my
life. Just like your addiction was to buying all of that material crap.”
The heart kept sprouting droplets of blood.
“Will you promise you will cure her? Will you?” Ian didn’t know what to think. Jimmy could just take away his soul and then prey on his mother’s. Either way, he would hurt inside.
One: he would grieve and never forgive himself for letting her die.
Or two: doing this could increase her chance to live longer. A decision he had to make.
“Sure we will, Ian. What do you take us for? Idiots? Haven’t we held up our end of the bargain so far?”
“Yeah. Guess you have, Jim.”
“Well? What do you say? Do we have a deal?”
“Okay, but CURE HER!” Ian shouted. “Cure her or I’ll find a way to come back and kill you!”
“Now, now, Ian. No need to be angry. Like I said, we’ve always held up our end of the deal. Right? We’ll take good care of her.” Jimmy’s grin was enough to tell Ian that he could never come back and kill him. How could he? He was going to be a prisoner for eternity.
“All right, Jimmy, let’s get this over with.”
“Sit in front of the TV and assume the position, Ian,”
Jimmy said as he licked his lips with his long serpent-like tongue.

Everything happened in the blink of an eye. This time Jimmy took the extreme pleasure of reaching through the TV himself, grabbing Ian around the neck, and pulling him inside.
And then screen turned black for the very last time.

•

Many days later Ian’s mother was released from the hospital, her heart pumping blood, not missing beats, working just fine. She was rolled out in a wheel chair to a waiting cab and was taken to Ian’s funeral.

It was a closed casket service.

Ian’s body was found in front of the TV by a neighbor who had heard a loud crash. The scene looked as if someone had broken in, sliced him from the top of his head to his feet, and exposed all of his innards.

A couple of things were taken, but nothing of real value. It was baffling to the police, and was put into a cold case file.

Ian’s mother decided to sell the house because she didn’t think that the comfort of living there would ever be the same. She couldn’t bear the thought of being in the same house where her son was killed. So, she went to live with her sister who wasn’t too far away.

One day, she decided to watch TV and was appalled at what she saw.
“Hello, friends!” Ian said, standing there wearing a black two-piece suit and bright blue shoes. He had taken Jimmy’s place on the show. “How would you like to make a deal? We’ve got a precious emerald necklace on display. Very reasonable. Very reasonable indeed.”
A chill ran down her spine.
“Ian!” she shouted. “Ian! You were murdered!”
But Ian couldn’t respond, because he couldn’t hear her. Except for the phones that rang off the hook in the studio. And as he spoke more about the necklace he held an everlasting, cheesy, grin.

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