𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔻𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕝 𝕂𝕟𝕠𝕨𝕤 𝕎𝕙𝕪

𝔼𝕝𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟

"Grunkle Stan this is Lucifer, and yes he is the Devil." Dipper introduced me. 

I was staring at him. 

"The Devil? Hah. What a joke." Grunkle Stan scoffed. 

"I am the Devil nitwit." I say.

"Oh, then where is your pitchfork, horns, and a tail?" He laughed. 

I guess I should prove to him that I am the Devil. I hate it when people don't see me for who I am. I hate it when people say I'm a fake when I am the true devil. I walk over to him. I plunge my hand into his chest. I pull out his soul. His body falls to the floor. 

"Huh? Why am I white? Why is my body lying on the floor?" Grunkle Stan asked. 

"I took your soul out. You're dead. I killed you." I say. 

"Okay, this doesn't change a thing. I still don't believe you." He said. 

I suppose he needs more proof. I pull out my pitchfork. It's red as fire and blood drips. I point it at the cashier. I can tell he's a money lover. He loves it like Gollum loves the precious.

"No, no, please have mercy." Grunkle Stan cried. 

His pleads were like music to my heart. I shot a fireball at it. The fire ball destroyed the front desk and several other things. Oops. I might've over done it a bit. Grunkle Stan's tears were falling like a water fall.

"Okay, okay, I believe you." He sniffed. 

I return his soul to his body. He was still crying. 

"Do you know how much cash was in there?" He asked. 

I took out a pack of 500-dollar bills from my jacket. I drop it at his feet.

"Keep it." I say. 

"So, um, do you want to explore the town a little more?" Dipper asked. 

"Sounds fun. Lead the way.