[ WP ] A dyslexic devil worshipper attempts to sell his soul to Santa .

He lit a ring of candles and bit the head off a bat. That's the kind of thing you used to hear about seances. 
 
 These days you do n't need to perform a ritual. You can send an email directly to Satan's inbox. All it takes is a google search. I'd already sent him a whole bunch of shit – dank memes, dick pics, a smattering of ogrish. But I guess he forgot to turn on push notifications because he never sent a reply. 
 
 Either way, I did n't lose any sleep over it. Until, one night, I did. 
 
 I awoke to a gentle neighing in the black of night, which was odd because I lived in a high-rise. Then came the bells - hell's bells. At this point I'd figured out who it was. Satan had come to deliver his message in person. I cracked the window and braced myself against the chill. Then came a deep, guttural roar. The dark lord was laughing at my expense. His evil was palpable. He slipped through the opening. 
 
 “ You've been a naughty boy, ” he said, handing me a lump of something hard. 
 
 I considered the formidable girth of the wretched beast, then studied the object in the palm of my hand, squinting. 
 
 “ There's your reply ”, he said, gesturing to the lump of coal in my hand. 
 
 “ Santa? ” Had my email gotten mixed up somewhere down the line? 
 
 “ That's right, you naughty boy,'' he replied. 
 
 “ Oh god, I sent Santa dick pics! ” 
 
 “ And now you're on my naughty list. ” 
 
 He slipped back out the window. 
 
 “ By the way ” he said, his face reappearing, “ where'd you get my email address? ” 
 
 “ Coca-Cola.com. ” 
 
 “ Ahh, I see what's happened. I freelance for Coca-Cola. Satan's the CEO. ”
