One day, Lucifer met a man.
“Hello,” said Lucifer.
“Hello,” said the man. “It’s a nice day, isn’t it?”
“No. It happens to be overcast with rain forecast for later.”
“Oh. So it does.”
“Can I get you anything?”
“Um. As you ask. A nice pair of shoes would be really useful, to help me get around. My feet hurt a bit.”
“Okay." Said Lucifer. "Here is a nice pair of shoesies.”
“Ooo. Lovely. Thank you. They're very comfy. Would you like any…”
“Yes. I shall have your soul for ever and ever, thank you,” interjected Lucifer, feeling rather smug.
“Oh. Okay. I don’t really have a corporal concept of my own mortal soul, so signing this bit off nondescript paper won’t make much difference to me, seemingly. Here you are then.”
Lucifer looked at the man and wilted slightly. It had been a long day at the coal face and he was beginning to think that C. S. Lewis had had the right idea.
“Well then,” he replied. “In that case you shall be plagued by a series of misfortunate occurrences to blight every aspect of your work-a-day life. Everything you do shall turn to ratchet and ruin. You will develop your own self-perpetuating downward spiral of internal guilt, shackled to a brutal sense of existential paranoia about your place in the world and a never ending sequence of self-induced doom. You will deny yourself simple contentment at every opportunity, torturing yourself with futile self-loathing born from events you have no control over and a constant fear you have forgotten or wasted everything good you ever came across. And you shall have semi-insane hair every time you meet someone you think is lovely. And I shall make all the car alarms next to your house go off at half hour intervals throughout each and every night.”
“Ah” said the Man. “That doesn’t sound very nice.”
“Your banal system of existence has no merit for me,” finished Lucifer.
The man thought for a while.
“Would you like a Minstrel?”
“Yes please. I’ll take some of it back then. But not the hair thing.”
“Okay then,” said the man.