[ WP ] Satan opens a pawn shop with extra ordinary items . However , every item is sold with a catch .

Satan needed some cheering up. Since his little joke with Santa had backfired and that chunky chuckling do-gooder had made him look like a fool he ’ d felt as though he was in a slump. And even worse, after spoiling all his plans Santa had taken pity on him and handed over a real Christmas present. 
 
 Pity! He was the tyrant of the tormented, he didn ’ t need pity from a man who spent three hundred and sixty-four days of the year unemployed. Santa ’ s parting comment of “ maybe I ’ ll see you next year ” had been the last straw. There was no way he was going to be seen as good enough to warrant another visit from that stocking stuffer ever again. 
 
 So it was time to have some fun. 
 
 He chosen a small town. With close-knit neighbors and closer families. The kind of place where teenage sweethearts would get married, but with wagging tongues on how tight the brides dress was in the front. Where children could play out in the street, because everyone was looking out of the window. Where what was right for everyone was decided by the few who wouldn ’ t admit to ever being wrong. The sort of place where everyone knew everything about everybody. Even if it wasn ’ t any of their business. And just far enough away from anywhere else to keep it a little … stuffy. 
 
 Perfect. 
 
 He planned out the details carefully. He was going to open a shop. But not just any shop, one selling very special items. The kind that would cause trouble here. The premises he had taken over was near a school. In fact you could see the school gates from the doorway. 
 
 Somewhat ironically the children were quite safe with him. Everyone always assumed he was out to ensnare the young and innocent but he wasn ’ t. He couldn ’ t. Children were immune from damnation and temptation. The young couldn ’ t be held accountable for their actions as they had no concept of true good and evil. 
 
 But the parents were a different matter. 
 
 He knew there would be at least one uptight parent who ’ d make a fuss about the business and with him selling ‘ trash ’ to ‘ people like that ’ near their kids. The kind of person who ’ d start up some sort of group who ’ s sole aim was to shut him down any way they could and get him out of town. They would meet with the other self proclaimed moralistic citizens to campaign against him. Sending out petitions and knocking on doors. Phoning up government offices to complain and writing letters to newspapers. 
 
 Weaving their web of virtuous activism they would ensnare the unwary, the unconcerned and the uninformed with peer pressure, guilt and an overinflated sense of parental and civiv obligation. Bringing friends and strangers together into fighting a common enemy. 
 
 Hopefully they ’ d give their new group a catchy name, some sort of acronym maybe, and come up with slogans to chant as they passed by his door. He always liked an angry mob to have a good catchphrase. 
 
 And then the fun would begin. 
 
 He ’ d spread the seeds of mistrust and uncertainty and watch them grow. Somehow a rumor would spread that a certain neighbor had been seen going into the shop. A spouse would find a receipt that seemed to have fallen from their loved ones pocket. A friends car would be found parked outside the business when they ’ d told you they were busy. 
 And that town, now so stuck up and pious would start to eye each other with suspicion. Wondering who else was a hypocrite, a lier, a pervert. And with each little crumb of gossip and shifty sideways look the doubt and distrust would fester and grow. And then one day, unable to contain it anymore, they ’ d turn on each other. Striking out with anger and fear they would spread hate and panic, inducing shame and humiliation to those unable to fight back with their own rage and bitterness. 
 
 Decades of love, friendship and trust wiped out within an entire town. That should make Santa stuff himself back up the chimney. 
 
 With a puff of sulphuric smoke and a flash of dark aura Satan appeared in the middle of the shop floor. This was the first time he ’ d get to see the interior decked out as a real shop and he was swept away with the excitement. He ’ d been summoned to one of Death ’ s mandatory group meetings, this one about the new reincarnation paperwork, and had to leave the final steps of his plan to some minor imps. 
 All they had to do was write the words of summoning on the floor and then add a few lines of mental fabrication. Human imagination would become the template and the whole place would instantly change into how mortals thought it should look. Not only was it a quick and easy spell to summon the shop into existence but as it looked ‘ just right ’ in the mind of the observer they ’ d not question the fact that the business hadn ’ t been there just a few hours before. 
 
 The nighttime gloom cast deep shadows and the vague shapes he could see around him held so much promise as he prepared to turn on the lights. A throaty laugh escaped him and with a click of his fingers the lights came on. 
 
 His wicked grin forming into a confused tightlipped smile as he tried to work out what he was seeing. Turning around slowly his eyes tried to make sense of his surroundings. It took him almost five minutes to work it out.
