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I had to laugh.  The devil looks exactly like you’d expect him to look.  Perhaps that’s the point. But for me, raised on too many horror movies about yuppie sociopaths, I expected a cross of Patrick Bateman from American Psycho and Gordon Gecko from Wall Street,  and there he was.

I guess it made sense though.  I am enlightened and self aware enough to know I parlayed this day because of greed.  And as the aforementioned Gordon would say, for me greed was very good.  It was a motivating force.  A life force, you might say.

I flatter myself my infernal guest would approve and understand.  Certainly he smiled like he did.  And he had paperwork, contracts for blood and so forth, so all the little details you’d expect. A man, or a demon I suppose, of infinite professionalism.

Well, he’s been doing this for a long time.

I was gratified that I could engender some surprise in the old chap, nevertheless.  It seemed the extent of my desires, my greed, far exceeded most of the little dreams of souls seeking his support.  I liked that.  I like to think of myself as a logical man, and when you  are bartering your soul, then it is only logical to take it to the extreme. And I value myself highly. I have found in business unless you do, no-one else does.

No reason to think his infernal majesty would be any different on that score.

What profits man who gains the world but loses his soul?  Well, he’s profited with the world, isn’t he?  And that’s what I wanted.  The whole goddamn world.

He’s laughing at me, as though I’ve missed the point or the joke somehow.  But I don’t care. Maybe he’s just amused by my ambition, my chutzpah.  Either way, it’s all the same to me.

Now where do I sign?

(c) Helen M Valentina 2016