He sold his sole for a sandwich. A reuben to be exact. The devil got up from his chair, walked into the kitchen, and came back with a big, meaty sandwich. He took his time eating, chewing with his mouth wide open while maintaining complete eye contact all the way through. When he was finished he raised one buttcheek, and gave a loud, trumpeting fart. Gabriel aint got shit on me he thought. Still maintaing eye contact he said, “Now...go fuck yourself.” The devil frowned and scrunched his nose. Whether from the comment or the smell he couldn’t tell, got up and left. That night he dreamed of the sandwich. It was sitting on the nightstand. It was looking at him, its crust opening to show glistening meat, and a sauerkraut tongue. “He’s coming” it said. “He’ll huff...and He’ll puff…” He grabbed up a small lamp and crushed the sandwich with a satisfying splat. He woke up, sitting up straight in his bed. He put his hand to his temples, and gently massaged them. A knock came from his bedroom door. It was soft, seeming to invite him to open it. He got up and approached the door. He put his ear to it. He heard someone take a deep breath.