“Surely you jest my good man.”
“I don’t jest and I am the opposite of good.”
The rather plump Mr. Louis, pronounced in the French way, waved his perfumed hanky at the dark figure huddled in the corner of the room. The idea was preposterous.
“I was gravely ill, out of my mind. Anything I may have done would never stand up in court you silly thing,”
The dark figure rose from its crouch and floated to the annoying man. He raised his arm which held a document of old yellow paper.
“It is here, you received 20 years of life. You prospered and lived comfortably. It is clear that I met the conditions that were asked for and the deadline has been reached.”
Mr. Louis tutted in a condescending way, he stood up allowing his girth to fall around his rather tight leotard. He stood with his hands on his hips, displaying a look of defiance.
“I told you, no court would allow such a document. Mr….”
“Lucifer, call me Lucifer,” the dark figure stated.
“Ah, a pact with the devil…outlandish poppycock!”
“None the less, your time is up and I have a special place for you. Your girth shall be flayed from your bones and served to the wretched hoards that I love so dearly.”
Mr. Louis grabbed the parchment from the hand of Lucifer, “this isn’t even my signature! I can’t even make this out. Poppycock and drivel, my dark friend…be gone!”
“The name is Isabella Dumont.”
“Mother?” the pudgy man questioned.
Lucifer smiled, “Power of Attorney is such a bitch. Time’s up, I’ll have your meat.”
Mr. Louis screamed like a girl…forever.