[ WP ] The devil once promised he would grant you any wish , free of charge , on the day Hell froze over . Today he 's back , and covered in snow .

Early afternoon in a small, secluded mountain town. A doorbell rings in one of the squat wooden cottages that line the cobbled street. A tall, rust-red figure stands out in the light drizzle. Snow drips from his shoulders. It is the middle of the summer. 
 
 
 Miss Cecilia McCarthy walked calmly through the cottage's living room. As she strode she dodged the centuries old furniture and the occasional urn or relic. She knew who it was. There was n't much of a smile in her face. The heavy wooden door swung outward with an ominous creak. Every door that Miss McCarthy opened creaked. It was a family talent. It ran in the blood. 
 
 
 -Oh. It's you- 
 
 -Yes, it's me- Answered the Devi 
 
 -Oh, *You*- A pause - Do come in then- 
 
 -Yes. *Yes*, okay- 
 
 
 Miss McCarthy turned and strode into the kitchen. She did n't look back to see if he followed. 
 
 
 Behind, the Devil was having trouble with some untied shoelaces. He stepped forward carelessly and fell into the ground headfirst. Miss McCarthy did n't even glance back. 
 
 
 The Devil hurried into the cramped kitchen. 
 
 
 -Err, sorry about that- 
 
 -Yes- 
 
 
 The awkwardness in the air was palpable. If a fifteen-year old teenager had been in the room, a hushed shout of `` *Awkwardddd*'' might have been heard. The Devil was drenched in sweat. Small beads of the stuff rolled down his forehead without a hurry in the world. 
 Of course, Miss McCarthy did n't seem to be affected by the stuffy air. She was ice-cold. 
 
 
 -What do you want- It was n't a question. Miss McCarthy did not ask questions. 
 
 
 -Err- The Devil's eyes darted across the room. They could n't find a suitable resting place. Staring into Miss McCarthy's steely gaze was not an option. 
 
 -Do go on- 
 
 
 Now, when it came to torture elements and the like the Devil may have been an eminence, but when it came to social fluency he was as proficient as a ten-year old. Ten-year olds were no match for Miss McCarthy. When their footballs tumbled into her garden they did n't even ask for them. At night, they sprinted past her house. 
 
 
 Miss McCarthy did n't say anything. She waited, patiently, one leg crossed over the other. The only sign of life was given when her lips curled up into a smile. She 
 *enjoyed* this. 
 
 
 -You know, uhh, when we, er, you *know*... - The Devil finished mid-sentence. He looked at Miss McCarthy expectantly, as if by sheer willpower he could will her to understand. 
 
 -No- 
 
 
 The Devil might have been seven feet tall, and he might have had the build and stature of a football player, and he might have had blood-red skin, but none of that mattered there and then. He had the soul of a wet puppy, and the confidence of a thirteen-year old. He treasured revenge, but he never could get around to delivering it. That was why he was such an expert torturer; the anger welled up inside him, and he took it out on those poor sods over at Hell. 
 
 
 The statement destroyed him. There was a visible look of confusion on his face. Anarchy reigned within his brain. 
 
 
 -Wait, what? Do n't you play stupid with me, I *know* you remember. *You asshole*- He spat that last word. 
 
 
 That was what he would have wanted to say. What came out was: 
 
 
 -Oh. *Oh*. Err.... Well.... You know.- 
 
 
 -No- 
 
 
 Miss McCarthy smiled inwardly. This was almost as good as sex. 
 
 
 The Devil looked lost. He stared at the wall for almost ten seconds. After a marked inside struggle, he blurted out: 
 
 
 -When you and me were together- 
 
 
 -Yes- 
 
 
 No, this was *better*, Miss McCarthy decided. 
 
 
 -That I said that I would give you a favor when Hell froze over- 
 
 -'' Yeah, when Hell freezes over, i'll give you a damn favor'', I believe, were your words- Her voice was ice-cold, with just a hint of pleasure. There was a twinkle in her eye. 
 
 -And, I believe, Hell *has* frozen over, then. There it was again, that smile. 
 
 -Yes- It was a very resigned `` yes''. 
 
 -*Yes*- 
 
 
 Magical beings like the Devil were bound by their words. Semanticist, technicalities, figures of expression, all were very important. Miss McCarthy was a lawyer. 
 
 
 -What do you want? - The Devil had already lost the battle. 
 
 -Go fuck yourself- No, wait, make that the war. As the words rolled of her tongue cleanly, a hint of smug satisfaction crossed her face. 
 
 -What? - 
 
 -I mean it- Liquid nitrogen-cold 
 
 -What, like, right now? - 
 
 -Yes, you can use the couch- 
 
 -Oh- 
 
 -*Yes*- 
 
 She she watched him for a few long seconds before deciding she'd had enough. She was n't *totally* heartless after all. 
 
 -Err... - Said the Devil. 
 
 -Get the fuck out. Now- Said Miss McCarthy 
 
 The Devil scurried away into the afternoon, his short spear-headed tail not-so-figuratively between his legs.
