No Sale
Summary: Sock wants to sell the Devil his soul.
A/N: I thought my Reaper muse finally left, but apparently not. (Now if only my Earth 2 muse would come back so I can finish the 4 unfinished E2 fics that are kicking my butt, argh!) But anyway, thanks to all the early readers/reviewers for your feedback.
Disclaimer: I don't own crap and I have no money. Happy?
Sock opened the door to find an impeccably-dressed, silver-haired man sitting on the couch. Who was he and what was he doing in Sock's apartment?
The man stood up, puffing on a cigar. "You must be Sock. Gladys said you wanted to see me?"
Ah. It was him.
Sock dropped his things and immediately went to the kitchen. He came back carrying a two-tiered chocolate cake. Carefully carrying the cake so he wouldn't drop it, he bowed low in front of the Devil. "Welcome, your Devil-liness. To applease you, I've brought you this fine dessert, a devil's food cake, from my local 7-11. I hope it pleases you, um, mightily." Sock tentatively looked up from the cake to the Devil.
The Devil blinked. The whuh in the whuh whuh?
Sock stood up straight, gesturing toward the couch. "Please sit, your Devil-liness."
Sock had bought him a devil's food cake. Must not laugh. Must. Not. Laugh. The Devil said the words to himself over and over. He sat on the couch. "Son, you don't need to bow or call me that. I'm the Devil, not Henry the VIII." The Devil, amused, took a long puff of his cigar. "Now what do you need?"
Sock placed the devil's food cake on the coffee table and pulled a sheet of paper out of his pocket. He unfolded it carefully and handed it to the Devil. "I want to sell you my soul," he said solemnly.
Curiouser and curiouser. One of Sam's friends wanted to sell his soul? "Oh?" The Devil raised his eyebrows. "Does Sammy know you're doing this?"
Sock shook his head, his expression more solemn than ever. "No, sir," he said almost vehemently. "Don't worry, I won't say anything to Sam. I don't want him to talk me out of this." He nodded toward the piece of paper he'd just handed the Devil.
The Devil glanced warily at the sheet, then back up at Sock.
Sock coughed nervously. He hadn't realized the Devil was such a quiet dude. "That's uh, that's my contract. I mean, those are my terms," he added quickly. He coughed again. "Would you like me to read them aloud to you, my, my, um, ruler of all things hellish?"
MUST. NOT. LAUGH. The Devil bit down on his lip so hard, his teeth nearly went through it. "That's okay, kid, I can read it myself." He unfolded the paper Sock had given him and skimmed it.
Oh, good grief. This thing was hilarious. Hell, it was funnier than reading The Onion.
Sock bowed again. "If the terms doth pleaseth you, um, please let us, um, I mean, do tell me."
"Kid, will you please quit talking like you're in some lousy Hollywood medieval movie? I'm trying to read here." The Devil gave Sock what he hoped was a kind smile.
Sock mumbled an apology.
The "contract" was smearily handwritten on a piece of paper with doodles in the corners ("Sock loves Josie" "Things to buy for Ted on his birthday 1) blow-up doll, 2) hooker if anyone will want him, 3) big ass tweezers to pull the stick out of his butt").
The Devil tried to read it straight-faced. It wasn't exactly the Magna Carta:
I, Sock, here buy rite this contract to sell my soul to the devil in exchange for him getting me back with Josie. And since my soul is so great and all, I also want a Lamborgini, unlimited beer in my fridge, season tickets for the Raiders, and a butt like Rocky's. Oh, and a butler like that guy Alfred. For this I swear to give you my soul. So it is written so it shall be done e pluribus unum for richer or poorer for better and worse, I pledge allejance to the republic for which it stands, with liberty and justice for all.
Woot!
Sock
The Devil looked up, trying very hard to avoid Sock's eyes.
"So, um, what do you think?" asked Sock hesitantly. "I put some legalese in there so it's all, like, official and stuff."
So that's what all the gibberish in there was.
The Devil fished into his pocket for his solid gold lighter and lit his cigar. He kept avoiding Sock's eyes. "So let me get this straight, kid. You want to sell me your soul in exchange for this Josie girl?"
"Uh, yeah," mumbled Sock. The maniacally nervous look in his eyes was gone and replaced with a more puppy-lovish look. Oh, ew. "Yeah, that's my girl Josie. She and I keep fighting and we keep breaking up and getting back together and we just broke up again and I love her so I was hoping you could, you know, get us back together…" The sentence drifted off. Sock looked away.
Uh-oh. The kid wanted his help because he was in love.
The Devil took a deep breath, and handed the "contract" back to Sock. "Listen, kid, I'd like to help you. But I can't," said the Devil, not unkindly.
"What do you mean?" Sock looked confused.
"You can't sell me your soul. I mean, you can, but I can't give you what you want."
"I don't get it."
The Devil sighed. "You want love, kid. I can't get you that. I don't have that kind of power. Now don't get me wrong, I admire your greed. A lot. But I can only arrange for lust, not love. I can get you some hot action from this Josie if that's what you want. Is that what you want?"
For a second, Sock's eyes lit up. Just when the Devil thought he would agree, however, Sock shook his head sadly. "Nah. I can get that if I want. I don't want to just sleep with her, I-"
"Want her to love you," The Devil cut him off matter-of-factly. Crap. Now he was starting to feel sorry for this kid. "And that's not exactly my territory. Sorry." He stood up. "I'd love to do business with you, though, if you still want all the other stuff on your list."
Sock shook his head balefully. "Nah. Without Josie, I don't really want all that other stuff. Not right now anyway. Maybe later, if we…" His voice drifted off again. "I just thought you could help me, you know…I mean, well, have you ever, like, loved anyone?"
The kid could certainly ask the hard questions, couldn't he? "Well, once, but he didn't, I mean we had a difference of opinion…" The Devil shook his head.
Sock's eyes lit up again. Maybe he understood what the Devil meant.
"He? Oh. I didn't think you were the type who swings on that side of the fence. Not that there's anything wrong with that," added Sock quickly.
Then again, maybe not. The Devil rolled his eyes.
"Well, have a nice day, kid. I have to go now. People to corrupt and whatnot," said the Devil cheerfully. "You can keep the cake. I'm more of a Krispy Kreme guy myself." The Devil tossed the cigar butt into a nearby trash can. "Take care, kid." He headed toward the door.
"You too, Mr. Devil."
"Oh, and kid?"
"Yes?"
"Next time, do us both a favor and run that contract through a spellchecker."