Free Strange Happenings by Avi

Old Scratch had restored his vision and healed his hands. That night he labored on a pair of shoes for
himself.
The shoes fit so perfectly, so snugly, that there was
absolutely
no space between foot and leather. They were like a second skin, the best shoes he had ever made. When he had put them on, the exhausted shoemaker lay down to sleep.
    As for the black cat, she with the lemon-colored eyes, she just waited, watched, and purred.
    When the shoemaker awoke, there, standing before him, was Old Scratch. He was tall, he was short, he was thin and fat—all at once and all the time. "I hope you slept well," said Old Scratch. "You have a distance to go."
    "I slept very well indeed, thank you," said the shoemaker. "But I don't plan on going anywhere."
    "Do you have my shoes or not?" said Old Scratch. He had many expressions on his face. Not one of them included a smile.
    "Almost," said the shoemaker.
    "
Almost
is not good enough."
    "That's to say," said the shoemaker, "the shoes are made. There is only the question of making them fit."
    Old Scratch sneered. "I'm willing to try," he said.
    The shoemaker reached down and took off one of his new shoes. He set it before Old Scratch.
    "Do you mean to suggest that
this
shoe is for me?" growled Old Scratch.
    "I do," said the shoemaker. "Of course, like all good shoes, they will take a little adjusting. Fortunately, you are of a type that can make these adjustments well."
    "That's true," said Old Scratch, rather puzzled.
    "Very well," said the shoemaker, "try it on."
    Old Scratch took up the shoe. Even as he did, his foot grew as large as an elephant's. So though he attempted to put on the shoemaker's shoe, it did not fit. Old Scratch grinned. "I'm afraid you have failed at last. There is no way I can get my foot into this shoe of yours."
    "Ah," said the shoemaker. "It must be something caught in the tip of the shoe that prevents you from getting all of your foot in. Try taking it out."
    Old Scratch darted a quizzical look at the shoemaker, but nonetheless picked up the shoe and peered inside. "Nothing," he said.
    "Search harder," said the shoemaker.
    Old Scratch shook the shoe. Nothing fell out. He reached in. He found nothing. "Empty," he proclaimed.
    "You're not looking hard enough," insisted the shoemaker. "You know how skilled I am in my trade. That shoe will fit but only if you are willing to try."
    "You're a stupid man after all," Old Scratch snapped. "There is nothing here!"
    "Perhaps," said the shoemaker, "you are too big at the moment to reach in. I thought Old Scratch could go anywhere. I guess I was wrong."
    Old Scratch was stung by these words. It must be said, he was nothing if not vain. "Of course I can go anywhere!" he cried. "No place is too big or too small for the likes of
me
!" So saying, he made himself small enough to jump into the shoe.
    The second he did, the shoemaker grabbed the shoe, pulled it on, and laced it up, trapping Old Scratch against the bottom of the shoe. The shoe fit so tightly, so perfectly, not even Old Scratch could get free.
    "Let me out!" he cried.
    Instead of answering, the shoemaker opened the door of his house and began to run as fast as he could. Every time he came down on that foot, he squashed Old Scratch against the bottom of the shoe. Each time he did, Old Scratch shouted, "Ouch! Free me!"
    "Not until you release
me
from my bargain," replied the shoemaker.
    "Never!" returned Old Scratch, who made up his mind to wait until the shoemaker became tired.
    The shoemaker, however, had not run for years and years, so he had lots of energy and strength. Hour after hour, day after day, month after month, he ran.
    Seriously pounded, Old Scratch began to think of what he might do to get out of his predicament. It took him a while, but at last he had an idea. He turned himself into an itch.
    At first it was a very mild itch—a small, nibbling, wiggling, tickling, crawly sort of an itch. What's more, it settled itself right beneath the