“Excuse me sir, may I ask your name?”
“For now you can call me Lucifer,” the man in the business suit said with an endearing grin.
The grey haired man across the table chuckled softly over his beer belly. “Now, what about that business proposition?”
“Well you see, I’d like you to help me with some… cleaning up. The man behind the counter. He’s been a thorn in my side, you see. He’s been doing a lot of work for my competitor. I‘d like him to be taken care of.”
“Oh, that sounds delightful.” Beer belly rolled his eyes. “What would I be getting out of this?”
The well dressed man paused for a moment and allowed the restless bustle of the diner to fill his silence.
“I won‘t take your soul”
Nearly hysterical with laughter, the aging man wiped a tear from his eye. “You tryin’ to convince me you’re Satan?” He fell into fits of laughter again.
Across the table, the man waited patiently for his attention. “Would it help if I collected a soul right now, before your eyes?”
Before a reply could be made, a customer at a table near by fell onto the floor, limp and lifeless. Without missing a beat Lucifer placed a .44 Magnum on the table, seized the fallen patron by the ankle, and proceeded to stroll out of the establishment with the body in tow.
Beer belly’s laughter was quickly silenced, and he was immediately sobered.
Once out side the man in the business suit kicked the limp form in the side, and ordered him to stand.
“Ow, damn boss, you think this will work?”
Three shots sounded inside, and screaming customers poured outside in confusion.