[ WP ] You 've just sold your soul to Satan in exchange for demonic powers . However , you did n't read the fine print and it turns out you 've entered into a pyramid scheme . `` Satan '' is actually a low-level demon and you have to recruit 200+ souls to get your powers .

`` That's just the pitch office,'' grunted Satan, leading the way down a narrow hallway, cabled end to end with buzzing florescents. `` I only use that for sales purposes. I spend more than 2 hours a day in there the room's gon na reek of sulfur and I really ca n't afford to lose my deposit. In here.'' 
 
 He gestured towards a small room with no door. `` Yeah, it used to be janitor's closet. That's the grind, kid.'' 
 
 Satan stumped into the room, grabbing the only chair ( a bent, metal folding chair ) and leaning back against the wall. `` Say your piece.'' 
 
 I propped myself casually against the opposite wall, elbow-to-concrete, fist-to-chin. `` Well, it's simple. I want my soul back.'' 
 
 Satan laughed, then reached down and began to pick absently at his cloven hooves. `` Contract is unbreakable. Not in this lifetime. Not in this plane of existence. Not in the past or the future. Forever and ever, your soul belongs to me.'' 
 
 I tried to keep it cool. `` Well, sure. But I think we can both agree there was a fair amount of misrepresentation happening during that pitch of yours.'' 
 
 `` No, no. No.'' Satan shook his head, the curved horns waggling like twin snakes. `` It's all in the fine print. I'm not responsible if you ca n't be bothered to read a contract before you sign it. And I did n't promise you anything that you ca n't have. All that stuff we talked about - including all the super sick shit everyone pretends they're not into, even though it's the stuff they're *most* into - that's all yours. You just got ta hit the numbers.'' 
 
 `` Yeah, but you have to admit - a *thousand* souls is a lot of souls. I'm not sure I've even *seen* a thousand different people in my whole life.'' 
 
 Satan waved his hand. `` Sit sit. You're getting yourself too worked up over this.'' 
 
 I took a seat on the floor in front of Satan. 
 
 `` A thousand *is* a lot,'' agreed Satan. `` But only if you think about it as a single number. You need to get a lot more granular with this. How about one a day? Just one a day? That'll take you less than four years.'' 
 
 `` I do n't know,'' I said, covertly attempting to create additional space between myself and the Dark Lord. What he had said earlier about the sulfur smell was potentially an understatement. `` Not everyone wants demonic powers. Certainly not enough to sell their soul...'' 
 
 `` Ah!'' said Satan. `` There's the trick, is n't it? You need *souls*. That's all. Does n't really matter what you trade to get them. Someone does n't want dark powers, fine. Find out what they DO want.'' 
 
 `` Like what?'' 
 
 Satan shrugged. `` Well, if you've got a sports fan, say. And they want their team to win the Super Bowl - that's where you swoop in.'' 
 
 My mouth hung open a moment. `` How am I supposed to manage that? I ca n't control who wins the Super Bowl!'' 
 
 `` Of course not,'' said Satan. `` Neither can I. Neither can God. That's strictly an Illuminati thing. BUT - that's does n't mean you ca n't make the deal. You hear someone say *I'd sell my soul to see the Browns win a Super Bowl* you jump in there! Except maybe not that example. You do n't want to out yourself as a fraud. But if someone's offering up their soul, you take it. Then, if their team by some chance *does* win - BOOM! Easy money. And if their team loses, well whatever. Nothing gained, nothing lost.'' 
 
 `` Is that ethical?'' 
 
 Satan blinked. `` What the hell?'' 
 
 `` Right,'' I said. `` So if someone offers up their soul for a trade, I can take the offer. And do nothing?'' 
 
 `` Exactly. The world is chaos, man. Sometimes people get what they want. I mean, they were going to get it anyway. But they do n't know that. So, you know - may as well let them give you their soul.'' 
 
 `` I suppose that's reasonable.'' 
 
 Satan adjusted his tie. `` And do n't underestimate how many people out there would like demonic powers. All the fire and mind control and pestilence and such. You get a handful of people out there working for you, and they get a few people working for them, bing bang boom, you're rolling in souls in no time.'' 
 
 I nodded. I had to admit, I felt much more at ease. `` And the... uh... the great leathery wings?'' 
 
 `` Ah, well, that's not really a demonic power,'' said Satan. `` More of an accessory. If you're really keen on wings, I'm sure we could make that happen for you, but technically, not part of the deal.'' 
 
 I popped up to my feet. Satan held out a hand and I helped him to his feet as well. 
 
 `` I could tell,'' said Satan. `` Right when I saw you. I said *Here's a guy who gets it*. Glad to have you on the team.'' 
 
 `` Thanks for the time,'' I said. `` Incidentally, what are you going to do with my soul?'' 
 
 `` Sell it to Amazon,'' said Satan. `` They're apparently great for packing boxes.'' 
 
 `` Ah.'' I left Satan there in his doorless office and went out into the street. I saw a homeless man standing on the corner with a sign asking for food or money. 
 
 `` Sir,'' I said to the homeless man. `` I'd like to walk you over to that restaurant and buy you a steak. Would that be okay?'' 
 
 The homeless man's eyes went wide. He nodded vigorously. 
 
 `` Excellent!'' I said, putting my hand on the man's back and directing him towards the restaurant. `` There's just the matter of some paperwork I need you to sign first.''
