The roofers stopped by my home today to investigate my claim that several shingles had been torn off in the recent storm.
It’s not like it was going to be a difficult investigation. The roof was bare in several places, and there was a stack of damaged shingles piled on the porch for the roofers to see. The roof had a 10 year warranty, and I expected the damage to be repaired at no cost to me.
So I was stunned when the insurance agent called to say that the cost of the repairs would have to come out of my own pocket. Wasn’t he aware that my toga doesn’t have any pockets? What could this clown possibly mean?
“The damage to your roof was not done by an act of God, or by any of the gods who might have stopped by to visit you on blog business,” the agent explained. “It’s quite clear that those shingles were torn off because of Gargoyle damage.”
Gulp. What in the world had Gary the Gargoyle been up to on my roof? He usually sits like a stone statue on his perch at the front of the roof as he watches over The House on the Hill, and the shingles that had come off were on the back of the house. What gives, Gary?
“The snow makes me a little stir crazy,” Gary admitted. “There was just so much of it, and it was so damn cold. It usually doesn’t affect me, but there’s something about this Winter that’s really gotten deep down into my soul. I might have lost it and thrashed the roof a little in the process.”
The roofers’ estimate wasn’t outlandish, but I was still disappointed. I didn’t expect to have to pay anything given the warranty, and I’m not exactly rolling in the dough. Plus, if the snow had caused Gary to rampage, isn’t that like an act of God?
I tried this argument on my insurance guy, but it didn’t fly. I used my Brooklyn accent, but that didn’t work, either. I was resigned to forking over my hard earned cash.
A couple of hours later, however, the insurance agent called back singing an entirely different tune. Not only would all the repairs be covered by my warranty, but I’d also be receiving a discount on my insurance premium.
What had changed? The agent answered meekly, “Your house guest had a few words with me, my boss, and the roofers”. He then hung up without another word.
A huge smile came across my face and I chuckled as I shook my head.
I suppose having The Devil as a constant uninvited house guest did have its advantages. I decided that I wasn’t going to ask Lucifer what he had said to the parties involved to get them to change their minds.
My horned friend in the sharp suit just had a Godfather-like knack for making people offers that they simply couldn’t refuse.
I guess this makes up for all the Snapples he’s swiped from my fridge, and all the potato chips he has scarfed down while making himself quite at home at The House on the Hill.
Who needs a homeowner’s policy when you’ve got the Princess of Darkness on your side?