In a squalid apartment, a sickly thin man sat at a lone kitchen chair. The Elvis clock with the swinging hips showed that it was 11:50pm. He scratched nervously at an open sore on his liver spotted arm.
Ten minutes to go.
Suddenly, the room smelled of sulfur and vomit. A flame erupted in the middle of the room. It grew and widened to the size of a bonfire, red and yellow flames licked at the edges and a blinding white at its center. The man pushed back his chair until it thudded against the wall.
A demon eight feet tall walked from the inferno, with curved ram horns and a devilish smile.
The red demon set a contract down on the table. "Did you think I would forget?"
"N... N... Nooo."
"When we made this deal, I knew you were a lawyer so I made sure to read the 'fine' print."
A low hiss escaped the man cracked lips like a balloon deflating.
A magnifying glass popped out of thin air and into the demon's taloned claw. He held it up to the bottom of the contract and read. "Eric DuFluer's soul must be appropriated, solely and completely, on or before 11:59 on the 15th of April, 2017 or be forfeited forever."
Flexing a heavily muscled arm, the demon stepped forward to snatch his soul from his cancer ridden body.
Before he could reach him, a second fire erupted in the kitchen, even bigger and brighter than the first. From the flames, a hideously muscled female demon stepped into the kitchen. Long raven colored hair covered an ample bosom. A leathery tail whipped the refrigerator filled with his expensive medication.
She took one look at the man cowering in the corner and then her serpent eyes traveled to the other demon. "Mephistopheles, what are you doing here?"
"Decarabia, I could ask you the same thing."
"Step back. I need to take possession of this poor bastard's soul."
"No, you're not. I am."
"I have a contract." She howled.
"Me too. And, I was here first, so he's mine." Mephistopheles dropped the magnifying glass. It clattered to a stop in front of the dishwasher.
Grabbing him by a horn, she spun him into the narrow hallway. "Over my rotting corpse."
"Don't threaten me with a good time." He jumped on her back, pinning her to the floor.
The man watched as the demons wrestled, neither one gaining the upper hand. They bit and scratched and gouged eye balls. The two punched, choked, and kicked one another. Sweat, spit, and blood dripped from them and onto the linoleum.
The minutes passed until the pandemonium was interrupted by a familiar tune.
Blue Suede Shoes played softly from the clock on the wall.
The demons stopped fighting.
"Tsk. Tsk. Tsk." The man stood up from the table. "It's April 16th."
The female demon threw her opponent aside. "What?"
"Time's up. My soul is my own."
"Curse you to hell."
"No, you won't," the man said.
The demons glowered at him as he scooped up the contract and pulled an even larger magnifying glass from his back pocket.
"Plus you didn't read the 'ultra-fine' print. It says right here that if the assignor doesn't take possession of assignee's soul before the specified date, then the assignor forfeits his or her own demonic soul... I hear they can cure anything."
He laid a hand on their shoulders. They pulled away, but he held them tight.
Tilting his head back, he cackled like a loon as the demons shriveled away to nothing while the sick old man turned into a healthy young boy.
