Pity the Devil

Pity the Devil by J.B. Pravda

Long before chaos had been claimed by science, it had been a way of
life for the'Confederados', expatriates from America.

As codified by that theorizing, order emerges in ways known best to
itself.

There was no law of order ordaining the bond between Phillipe and
Orlando, their own local rainbow of tone and stature, each a divergent
fractal of the genealogical ebbing of time, one mulatto the other
European hued.

Yet they had been inseperable since walking age, despite at least a
head's height difference throughout their adolescence. Phillipe do
Orlean was thought, principally by himself, to have been the child of
the illegitimate son of Judah P. Benjamin, 'brains of the
Confederacy'.

Orlando Weingartner had known lesser heritage, albeit a distinguished
field officer who had served as adjutant to General Stonewall Jackson.
Yet, in a nation whose abolition of slavery had come late, vestiges of
the practice, coupled with the expatriate ethos, it was Orlando whose
nobility was assured.

Now grown to full manhood, early in the year 1933, that mutual
affection was to be tested.

"Phillipe, I must see you, right away" Orlando spoke softly into the
phone.

"'Lando, you old fox, I have not seen you in over a year! You sound not
your usual self, mi hermano" Phillipe sensed great confusion at the
other end of the device.

Phillipe simply queried "Where, when?"

"Near my mother's house in Villa Santa Barbara, tomorrow at 5 o'clock"
whispered Orlando; "I must go, until tomorrow, then" hanging up the
phone abruptly.

Embracing as lovers do, they retired to the nearby wood.

"Phillipe, the Nazis have recruited me, through my uncle, head of
security, to kill the American President-elect."
"Mother of God, how did this happen?" Phillipe's mind now raced with
the Jewishness that his putative grandfather had hidden most of his
life.

"There is no time to explain; I must ask that you do something for me
which involves great risk to your life, and mine" Orlando explained,
tearfully.

Smearing away the tears on the otherwise manly face of his 6'4" friend,
Phillipe simply said "Say it and it will be done."

"I have played for time, as Vargas nominated me to curry favor with
them, knowing of my Yankee hatred. But this is madness; you must go to
America and inform them" Orlando urged.

"They may not believe me, who am I!" worried Phillipe.

"They will believe this" Orlando handed him documents showing
Phillipe's heritage and the Nazi plan.

A week later, their bodies were found, Phillipe castrated in Florida,
Orlando in a car crash-----Roosevelt, beneficiary of the mutual love of
two very different, distant American 'brothers' from Brazil.