I regarded the man sitting on the stool next to mine. “So you’re the devil, huh?” It sounds a little farfetched I know, but there was something about him that made it believable. The faint smell of brimstone, perhaps, or teeth a little sharper than necessary.

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Want another beer?” I motioned to Rose.

“Sure,” said the Devil. “Thanks.”

We sipped our beers in silence for a while. “So are you here for my soul or something?”

“Nah. Nothing personal, but yours isn’t really worth the effort.” He looked at my empty glass. “My turn,” he said, and ordered another round. He paid cash.

“So how’s it gonig?” I asked.

He cast me a sour look. “Shitty.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Didn’t you pay attention in Sunday School? I’m in hell, pal.”

I looked around. “I’ve always liked this place.”