I slung my guitar over my shoulder and headed down to the crossroads. It was said that at midnight, a devil would appear at any crossroads and ask you for a deal. I never believed it before, but as I walked out into the open road, my gold guitar glittering in the full moon’s light, the air had an ominous feel. I could have believed in dragons right then, too.
I leaned against a stop sign at the road and looked at my watch. 11:56. I had some time before the supposed devil would show. I strummed at my guitar and played an upbeat song. I got lost in the music and closed my eyes, enjoying myself.
“That’s a mighty-nice guitar you have there,” I heard an otherworldly voice say.
I opened my eyes and in front of me was a creature – not sure if it was the devil but it was definitely not of our realm. It was short and pink. It had brown hair and brown eyes. It had short stubby legs and arms. It had no wings to speak of and appeared to have taken cloth and wrapped himself in it. I trembled in fear a bit. Why the hell had I decided to try this out? It’s like those girls who sit in front of the mirror and say “Virgin Mary” three times at midnight.
“I would like to win a fancy guitar like that,” the pink-skinned demon said. He held up his guitar and said, “I bet I can play my guitar better than you can play yours. And if I win, I get your guitar.”
“Um…okay. Uh, what do I get if you don’t play better than me?” I asked.
“Well, I guess it is usual for me to give you my soul,” he said.
“Your soul?” I asked shocked. How would I get a soul out of a demon? What this a trick?
“Yeah, isn’t that how this works?”
“Well, yeah, it must be,” I said. “Who will judge if you are better than me?”
“Um, I don’t know. Maybe it’ll be obvious,” he said and just started playing away.
I played my guitar in a response. We did more call and response. I was much better than he was. I had stronger and longer fingers and fingernails. I could pick better and hold the frets down better.
When we finally stopped playing, he looked at me and said, “Well?”
I looked at my guitar. It was just a silly gold guitar. I could get another one tomorrow. I wouldn’t know what to do with a demon’s soul – what if it did something horrible to me? Plus, I didn’t want the demon to have any reason to come looking for me.
“Clearly, you are a better guitarist than me. I submit defeat,” I say and hand the guitar to him.
He yelps, drops his guitar in the middle of the crossroad and runs off with the gold guitar I just gave him. I breathe a deep sigh of relief – I had met the devil and only lost a guitar.