Georgia was sweltering that day; that much Alfred would never forget. He stood out in the grove of trees behind his house, playing his fiddle like it was nobody's business. He was working up a sweat in the heat, but he wouldn't stop; no sir, because he was the best fiddler in the whole blessed world, and nothing would stop him, not even the fiery heat of Hell.

And just as that thought crossed his mind, up on the hickory tree stump in front of him lighted a man. Not just any man, though, and Alfred thought that he must have been seeing things from the heat, but no. Right there standing in front of him was the Devil himself, with ghastly red eyes and horns and sharp teeth that glinted white in the sunlight. Alfred didn't know what the Devil was doing in Georgia, but he figured he must've been up to no good.

"Boy, let me tell you what," the Devil said with a grin. "I guess you didn't know it, but I'm a fiddle player, too. And if you care to take a dare, I'll make a bet with you."

Alfred stopped playing his fiddle and gave the Devil a nod. "I'm listening," he said with a grin of his own.

"Now you play a pretty good fiddle, boy, but give the devil his due. I bet a fiddle of gold against your soul 'cos I think I'm better'n you."

Well Alfred wouldn't have any of that! He straightened up tall and intimidating-like and introduced himself. "My name's Alfred Jones, and it might be a sin, but I'll take your bet! You're gonna regret 'cos I'm the best that's ever been!"

The Devil laughed. "That's what I like to see! You ain't got no fear, do you, boy?"

Alfred could only smile wider. "No, sir, none."

"Well, I'll start this show," the Devil said, and a fiddle case materialized out of nowhere in a cloud of black smoke. He opened it up and took out a fiddle of the purest gold, so shiny it hurt Alfred's eyes to look at. The Devil dragged the bow across the strings and Alfred winced as it made an evil hiss, and out of nowhere just like the case came a band of demons that joined in.

Oh, the demons played hard and they played good, but Al knew the show had just begun, and all of the sudden the Devil started to play loud and harsh, the notes flying from the strings like banshees in a graveyard. His song was dark and terrifying, but good nonetheless, and Alfred would have to admit, the Devil would be hard to best.

Well the Devil finished up his song, Alfred clapped his hands. "You're pretty good, ol' son," he said. "But sit down in that chair right there and I'll show you how it's done."

And with that he lifted his own fiddle and started to play. Now unlike the Devil's song he'd heard, this one was happy and bright. The demons around the Devil cringed and ran away in fright. And with his playing, Alfred started to sing:

"Fire on the mountain, run boys, run! The Devil's in the house of the risin' sun. Chicken in the bread pan, pickin' out dough. Granny, does your dog bite? No, child, no!"

He played and played that fiddle the best he'd ever played, and when he was done, the Devil bowed his head because he knew that he'd been beat. He laid that golden fiddle on the ground at Alfred's feet.

Alfred smirked and said, "Devil, just come on back if you ever wanna try again." He picked up the fiddle. "I done told you once, you son of a bitch, I'm the best that's ever been!"

A/N: Just a short thing that ladybeemer requested someone write on Tumblr. I couldn't resist!

~Jel