Had a go with Satan in the house last night.
A guy in the office kitchen remarked behind me as I was filling the kettle for a cup of tea.
I froze in horror.
What the bloody hell was this!? Satan?? Loosed upon the earth and no one had thought to tell me!?
Slowly I turned around fearing what I might see. Someone with demonic eyebrows? A skullcap, perhaps?
My back-barker made a small whining noise of fear at the thought of facing the Lord of the Pit once more.
All was clear, thankfully. There were only two chaps standing behind me fannying about with some plastic tubs on the worktop.
The voice belonged to one of them, Tomb-Raider - a Test Analyst in his mid thirties. So called because of his fondness for befriending willing old women and vigorously inserting his penis into them.
The other fellow was a racoon'ish looking sort who I didn't know.
Did you? Oh aye, what was it like?
Racoon asked excitedly.
It was not bad. Not bad at all, actually.
The spoon I was holding fell from my fingers and clattered on the worktop beside the kettle.
Not bad!? Meddling with the great horned beast was not bad!?! Even worse, inviting the Dark Lord into your own house?
Tomb-Raider must be insane. Everyone knows you don't just invite the devil into your home and expect their to be no consequences?
It's bad enough when you invite your girlfriend to move in but bloody Satan!?
I opened my mouth to speak but all that came out was a brittle croak.
Racoon have me a narky sidelong look as if I were his little brother asking for another piece of fudge.
I've been thinking of trying it myself.
Said Raccoon, for all the world talking as if he were talking about a jalapeño stuffed olive and not the infernal Prince of Night.
You totally should, man. It's gonna be really handy for work.
Nodded Tomb-Raider with a self-satisfied smile.
I shook my head at his folly. Oh yeah, sure. It would be great for work.
How short-sighted was this clown? Would anyone in their right minds actually do a deal with the devil just to get ahead in the workplace!?
He must be batshit mental.
Well. I might not be one of the Almighty's most stalwart of believers. Nor did I have a flaming sword of Abbaddon with which to whack the minions of Hades standing mere feet away but by golly, I wasn't just going to stand here and do nothing whilst this pair plotted the opening of the gates of hell!?
Satan, you say?
I took a step forward. My right hand was already curling into a righteous fist of fury in preparation for the smiting of the unholy.
Tomb-Raider glanced at me.
Yeah, look, I even bought some in for my sandwiches.
He waved a hand airily at his plastic tub in which sat a modest looking sandwich.
I blinked.
This? This was Satan!? This innocent looking sandwich with odd looking brown stuff and lettuce poking out the sides.
This was the form that his Dark Majesty was taking?!
Satan?
I half burped/ half choked on mortal terror.
Yeah, it's a really cool meat substitute. I added some soy and garlic to this one. It's awesome.
Tomb-Raider lifted the sandwich from its tub and managed not to burst into infernal flames.
Meat substitute? Smashing.
I smiled and moved slowly away. Once round the corner, I high-tailed it back to my desk.
Meat substitute, my arse. There was devilry afoot here.
I had better find something to defend myself with, garlic or a silver bullet or something.
Shit was gonna get nasty.
