[ WP ] You are the Devil 's son . In an attempt to impress your father , you have recently started going around dressed as a delivery man secretly getting humans to sign over their souls .

The lush landscaping of 102 Wisteria Lane wilted in the heat as he walked past. Wavering shadows played on the cement behind him, and thin wisps of smoke rose up where he stepped. Thin trails of melted rubber dangled from the soles of his dress shoes, hardening on the pristine white walkway like strands of black linguine. 
 
 Under his arm, he clutched a package, pilfered from the mailbox at the end of the driveway. Plastic packing tape peeled off the front, its adhesive loosened by the boy's body heat. A strong smell of bad eggs and bonfires followed him, mixing sickeningly with a heave dose of Axe. He grimaced and fanned the stench away - humans disliked it, he had quickly learned, after the last three houses shut the door in his face Carefully, he set the package on the doormat and rang the bell. 
 
 A hulking giant of a man opened the door, bushy eyebrows scrunching suspiciously as he regarded this interloper on his land. He tugged his crisp collar, and glowered at the boy. 
 
 `` Who's that for?'' 
 
 `` Y-you?'' the boy offered, gesturing to the label. `` Mr. Hardy? Is he - does he reside at… at this residence?'' 
 
 *Damnit Leo, * he scolded himself. *Still have n't got your business shit right, and it's been three days. No wonder Dad's pissed. * 
 
 `` What're you for?'' the man asked, wrinkling his bulbous nose as he observed Leo's stringy shoes, and the sooty burn marks on his cuffs. `` Chimney sweep? It's the wrong time of year.'' 
 
 `` Ah…'' he stammered, fumbling with his clipboard. `` I'll need you to… to sign here, on this line, right? For the package.'' 
 
 `` Goddamnit'' 
 
 Leo suppressed a shudder at the mention of the Man Upstairs, but held his ground. 
 
 `` For the package. Yes, for security purposes. Right here.'' 
 
 `` Fuckin' A. Where's a pen?'' 
 
 Leo fumbled through his pockets for the pen. He had brought one with him…he knew he had…he kept going through them, because the ink dried out all the time in the heat, and sometimes the caps melted shut. Finally he had borrowed his dad's nice letter-writing pen, a sleek metal affair loaded with heat-resistant ink. 
 
 If he had lost that… 
 
 Sweating in sudden nervousness, he fumbled through his things, finally locating the pen on the clipboard. Of course… that was where it always was. The huge man mumbled more profanities as he signed, though thankfully not His name again. Quickly, breathlessly, Leo handed him the package, only a few faint black marks on the side where he had squeezed it too close. 
 
 The door slammed in his face. 
 
 He had done it. 
 
 He walked giddily down the driveway. His first human! Only two-hundred-ninety-nine more to go, and Dad would give his XBox back! 
 
 That was a lot, was n't it? But it was still less than three hundred, and now that he had one, the rest would come easier. He hoped. 
 
 Turning gracefully on his heels ( and leaving a spiral smear of melted rubber on the pavement, ) Leo returned to Hell. 
 
 `` Dad!'' he shouted. `` I got one!'' 
 
 With a thunderous crack and a cloud of black smoke, his father appeared in the hall. `` FINALLY!'' he bellowed, thumping his flaming pitchfork on the floor. `` LET ME SEE…'' 
 
 Leo handed over the paperwork with the man's loopy signature, hoping his father would n't recognize the distinctive ink of his own personal pen. He would have to sneak it back in the study somehow. 
 
 `` YOU IDIOT!'' Satan bellowed. `` YOU CA N'T DO ANYTHING RIGHT!'' 
 
 `` What? Did n't I get him?'' 
 
 `` YOU WENT CANVASSING THROUGH THE GATED COMMUNITY…'' 
 
 `` Yes…'' 
 
 `` WHERE THE BIGSHOTS LIVE, ALL THOSE CROOKED FUCKERS WHO WORK AT THE INSURANCE TOWERS?'' 
 
 `` Yes…oh…'' 
 
 Leo was beginning to understand what he had done wrong, but his father's next words left no doubt at all: 
 
 `` THEY HAVE NO SOULS. NONE. NADA. ZIP. ZILCH. WHY DO YOU THINK THERE ARE N'T ANY HERE, BECAUSE THEY ARE N'T EVEN FIT FOR HELL! DO N'T YOU EVER PAY ATTENTION TO ANYTHING BESIDES YOUR DAMN XBOX?'' 
 
 `` No…?'' 
 
 `` FINE! TAKE IT BACK. IT'S IN THE COAT CLOSET, ON THE TOP SHELF. FUCKING HELL, WE'LL TRY AGAIN NEXT YEAR.'' 
 
 Satan thumped his pitchfork on the fireproof floor, and stalked off to his study, muttering darkly about `` kids these days'' and `` who's going to take over when I retire, eh?'' 
 
 *Oh well, * Leo thought. He did n't like reaping souls anyway. Summer break was for having fun with the other demons, not getting lost on stupid Earth, and having doors slammed in your face. Whoever heard of humans with no souls anyway?
