My office was the sixth office down the sixth corridor of the sixth floor. The fact that the numbers "6-6-6" shone brightly, in golden letters, on the door to my office, my last name and the reputation I gained as as a brilliant little devil have become the subject of multiple internal jokes in the firm, but I never thought it would attract the attention of anything beyond that.
Boy, was I wrong.
One boiling midsummer morning, a gentleman dressed in a black Armani
suit and sunglasses stepped into my office. He introduced himself in a
very dignified manner, and presented me with a stylized calling card.
"Lucifer Diablo, Angel of the Bottomless Pit and Associates."
He told me he came to me in search for legal aid. When I asked him what
would an Angel of the Bottomless Pit require legal aid for, he grinned
devilishly at me and presented the following question in an ever-so characteristic
non-chalant manner:
"Mr. Damon, what would you say if I would have offered you to sell
your soul?"
I told him, bemusedly, that I am an attorney, and with all due respect,
we don't have one of those. It's simply a priveledge that the job
does not entitle us to have.
"I have noticed your aura is a little pale, Mr. Damon."
he told me with an expression of sincere worry "Maybe you should
have that looked at. Either way, that isn't the reason I came to see you.
I came to see you because you speak fluent Legalese. We need help from
someone like you - you see, we're not really experts on the subject."
"Well, here's the proof that lawyers, in spite of what some rumors
say, don't come from hell." I thought to myself, bemusedly.
"And also the proof that true Hell is up here on Earth." he
said, as if he was reading my mind "Just between you and me, only
you humans could think of things like bureaucracy for instance.
Simply marvellous."
"Why me of all people?" I asked him "There are people
- even in this firm - that have much more experience than I do."
"We needed someone who was experienced but still young and dynamic.
Besides, you were the easiest to reach, for us. Your office number, you
know. But, back to business."
He tapped the ground three times with his right foot - and a single page appeared in a cloud of flame, hovering over my desk. A few stray sparks flew onto a few drafts of important documents. And then, the flames gradually faded as the page landed right before my eyes.
"Well, here's the problem." he said "What you see before you now is a draft of a standard soul-selling contract. We've been trying to get the format figured out for about five-thousand years, and just between you and me, we want to change the image of the whole soul-selling dealie. We want to find a new target audience - one that is composed of people who AREN'T entirely desperate. Make the whole relinquishing-your-immortal-soul-to-the-underworld-for-eternity thing seem attractive. We've already hired a marketing division to deal with the adveritizing - but, again, between you and me, I've been around for long enough to see that the longer and more bombastic the contract is, the more likely it is that the clients will sign it, if only for the reason they have no idea what the devil (if you may pardon the pun) they're signing. Besides, rumors down there have it that your kind of people can tell other people to go to Hell in a way that will make them pack their suitcases and expect the trip of their lives. We wanted to see if it's true."
On first glance, I've noticed that their contract had a lot in common with a Graham Cracker - both were crispy and full of holes. It was so obvious that any idiot with basic knowledge in legal affairs could use the contract to extort them as much as he or she felt like. And I'm certain they really wouldn't have liked that.
I offered him a cup of coffee, and he nodded "Black, and hot as hell." he smirked viciously - but amusedly, as if he understood the irony in his request. I made him a cup of coffee, and he sat down in front of me, taking a long sip and nodding appreciatively.
"Well, our main problem here is this." I gave him a significant
look "Everything is phrased too clearly. You have to confuse the
enemy. Complex, high-level language, clauses referring to other clauses...
One page may be clear and concise, but it's a little too clear
and concise for our matter here. Ten pages at least, if we want this to
be efficient enough. Secondly..." and before I noticed, I went to
work as if taken by a frenzy. He sat and gazed at me patiently, completely
fascinated by the jargon. I do not know how long has passed before I was
finished - but finally, I placed a detailed, complex contract with enough
pages to give a save-the-rainforests activist a heart attack on the desk
between him and me, and I smiled.
"This is how it should look like." I told him "And
this is only a first draft. I'm sure your experts can alter whatever clauses
may be required for each specific case."
He read through the pages. After three pages, he broke.
"PERFECT!" he called out happily, and his glowing red eyes
lit up so brightly that they completely melted his sunglasses. He sighed
in despair, tossing the useless, molten lump of plastic out the window
and creating a brand new one out of raw firament. "You've done a
GREAT job, Mr. Damon. I do not know how to express my gratitude."
"No thanks are needed." I told him "Greater and smarter
lawyers than me have made deals with the devil before... Although I don't
think any of them took the expression that literally."
"You'll find that your bank account has swelled significantly."
he told me with a smile "They say that money is the root of all evil,
so needless to say we have tons of the stuff. We don't spare resources,
you know. It's been great doing business with you, Damon. If you'll
continue like this, you have one hell of a brilliant career ahead of you."
And with that, he stood up, turned around, and left the office, humming Metallica's "Devil's Dance" to himself. Say what you want of the Devil, at least his taste in music is good.
I leaned back in my leather chair and waited for my second meeting on
that day. She arrived five minutes later - a young, bright-eyed blonde
in a tailored white suit.
"Angelina Celestial, Guardian Angel." she shook my hand with
warmth that could not have possibly been human "We've recieved some
wonderful recommendations about you from your last customer. We've been
wondering if you could help us tie a few loose ends with the acceptance
requirements to Heaven... With all the religions that are running around
in the world nowadays, it all got a bit too complicated for us..."