It must have been two weeks now, since I met the devil. I met him during my regular late-night walk in the park. He beckoned me to come and what have I to lose anyway? I walked up to the lord of the underworld.
He smelt a great deal, and had clearly not taken a proper bath in weeks. There was something, can I say it, derelict about him. In all senses. He did not seem to be very enthusiastic of life and the greater purpose of it all. “Being the lord of the underworld is something you can do for many years, it’s true, but I feel like I’m missing something significant in my life”, he said, crying. Bitter, red tears dripped over the nape of my neck, Lucifer stood against me, shuddering.
Here I was, I thought, hoping to get a good deal for my soul, consoling Satan.