Once upon a time, in Inkwell Isle, there lived three ne'er-do-wells - bald, muscular Sal; short, stout Ollie; and tall, redheaded Chauncey. The three of them had been best friends since grade school, and they were practically inseparable. But they had a big problem; they were constantly getting evicted from every home they tried to move into.

The reason was that none of them could pay rent, and that was because none of them could hold down a job, each for a different reason. Sal had a foul temper and was always picking fights. Ollie, fragile and sensitive, would cry at the slightest provocation. And Chauncey, who fancied himself a psychic, vexed his patrons and employers alike with his odd superstitions.

One night, they were all huddled in their soon to be ex-apartment, eating some beans on toast (their favorite meal) at the dinner table, which was just a crate with a tablecloth on it. The previous week, Sal had successfully auditioned for a role in a large-scale stage production, hoping that it would be his big break. However, in typical form, he blew his chances after punching a baby on set during callbacks.

The landlord told them that they'd all be thrown out into the streets if they missed another rent payment - and rent was due tomorrow.

"If that landlord tries to throw us out, I'll give 'im a knuckle sandwich!" said Sal.

"That's what you always say," said Chauncey. "It never goes very well."

"I-I don't want to go out into the streets again!" said Ollie, who was already beginning to tear up. "It gets cold at night! And all my blankets have holes in 'em!"

Chauncey knew that eviction was imminent if they didn't do something soon, and it pained him to see his friend Ollie cry. So he stood up, went to his closet and brought back an old ouija board, one of his most prized possessions.

"Perhaps the supernatural will grant us the answers we need," he said. Sal rolled his eyes, but let him proceed, reasoning that there was no harm in humoring him. Chauncey took out the planchette, closed his eyes and shifted it across the board.

"O great spirits, we come to you in a time of crisis. Please, please, heed our call."

Before long, the lights in the apartment started flickering on and off and the furniture started quaking. Ollie, quite spooked, clung onto Sal for support. A cloud of purple smoke then billowed up in the middle of the living room, and a tall, hooded figure emerged from behind the cloud.

"Who dares disturb me from my slumber?" said the specter, in a creaky, ominous voice. "For what reason have you summoned me here?"

"We need your help," said Chauncey - unperturbed, as if he had done this several times before. "We're going to be evicted tomorrow morning. All we want is a place to stay."

"Yeah! With lots of good food to eat!" added Ollie.

"A place where nobody can kick us out," said Sal.

"That can easily be arranged," said the specter. "In return, however, you must each offer me your soul."

The three men looked at each other and thought over the deal. None of them could remember the last time they used their souls for anything. As such, they saw no reason not to take the offer. "Deal," said Sal, shaking the specter's bony, clammy hand. With a wicked grin, the specter snapped his fingers, and the four of them disappeared from the apartment and reappeared in...

...a vegetable garden.

"What's all this?!" demanded Sal. "We can't live here! There's not even any 'lectricity! And what do I look like, a potato?!"

"Funny you should say that," said the specter. With another snap of his fingers, the three ne'er-do-wells began to change shape. Sal's skin turned brown and muddy. Ollie's skin turned flaky and brittle, while his already plump figure expanded and inflated. Chauncey's skin became orange and moist, while his crimson hair turned leafy green. And all three of them felt their legs thin into whip-like tendrils and bury themselves into the dirt below them. Before long, all three of them had transformed - Sal into a supersized spud, Ollie into an oversized onion, and Chauncey into a colossal carrot.

"What's the big idea?!" hollered Sal. "This ain't what we asked for! Change us back!"

"Ah, but it is," said the specter. His voice, once creaky and frail, became a booming baritone. He threw off his hooded cloak to reveal, much to our trio's horror, that he was the Devil in the flesh all along.

"I have given you exactly what you asked for," said the Devil, twirling his staff. "Look around you; there is plenty of fresh, delicious food to eat, as far as the eye can see. And you're rooted in the ground, so nobody could kick you out even if they wanted to."

With a blood-curdling cackle, the Devil walked out of the garden, watching with glee as Sal shook his fist, Ollie bawled and blubbered, and Chauncey massaged his temples in pain. "I'll be back later to collect your souls," said the Devil. "I trust you won't try to walk out on our deal. But then again... how could you?"