Your word, huh? Perhaps I should ask the Etruscans about that.
Oh, wait…
Where the fuck do I sign?
It’s been a long time since I got myself some action, and I could use the money too. Besides, anything useful in exchange for something that doesn’t exist sounds good to me.
Why are you complaining to ME? Your problem’s with the Nazarene.
Precisely the attitude the Nameless One likes in his [del]hell-dog food[/del] vendors.
Wait, what?! I have to work? Feed me to the hell dogs, please.
That’s what I said was going to happen.
Nazarene, schmazarene. You religious types are all the same.
How 'bout a rental deal? You get to lease my soul for a certain amount of time, with an option to renew. It’s not like it’s without precedence. (These guys do work for you, right?)
-Malleus “Ol’ Loopholes” Incus Stapes
PS. How does this franchise work, anyway? Are you all one big cooperating corporation, or does each demon do his/her/its own recruiting? Also, do the people Upstairs collect souls, too?
Please put down the bong.
Franchise is not a word I would consider accurate. More like Fiendish army dedicated to overthrowing the forces of light, hope, happiness, and love; establishing a new order in Heaven; and casting all the agents of peace, beauty, and joy into the Pit of Numberless Hungry Caterpillers, and Yes, that includes Kate Winslet!
Each of us has his own role to play in the Great War. Not everyone is on soul-recruitment detail. I myself am on loan from the Environmental Disaster Unit. (Everybody there is taking leave because, frankly, you guys seem to be doing well enough without any help from Below.) I thought about taking a vacation but my friend Jerry, who ordinarily manages this department, wanted to take his family to the brothels on Vega 7. When he gets back I shall resume work on the volcano generation project.
They call it redeeming and claim its for the good of the mortal. I wouldn’t trust them, though. Everybody knows that sapients are only motivated by self-interest and the desire to consume others, and that applies to our Hated Opponents as much as it does to the LowerArchy and you earthworms.
I don’t know if it’s the same story, but this episode of the newer Twilight Zone (based on a short story by Joe Haldeman) seems to fit the bill.
[crazy hat off]
In the story Czarcasm and I were talking about, the Devil loses the bet, leaves in a huff, then returns because he still wants to solve the problem and wants to consult with the protagonist.
Ice Weasel. Catapult.
No problem.
Convection. Problem.
Before I agree to selling my soul and bothering with possible terms, first I wish to understand what in fact compels your side’s parties to comply with the terms of the agreement? I get that I am signing in blood, and that binds me and my soul. But how is the contract enforced? What keeps your netherworldly beings in line?
I mean, I’d hate to sign a deal for 3 Snickers bars, you give me two and say “close enough”, and then be out my soul.
Terms I’m contemplating:
-
Full good health and physical and mental well-being, including physical prowess without any of that hard work stuff.
-
Enough wealth to live in the comfort I desire and to acquire whatever I wish without worrying about silly things like stock market fluctuations or the IRS.
-
Enough power to live a quiet little existence (or a big splashy existence if I feel like it) and to be left alone by thieves, governments, stalkers, crazies, etc.
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To be surrounded by the actresses (and other ladies) of my choice taken from the times and appearances I find most attractive, including possibly multiple copies of the same actress from different time periods. And I want the actual women - none of that silly look alike succubi business. I want to inflict my will upon the actual women! Effects to causality and the timeline are your problem to deal with.
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The ability to shoot lightning from my fingertips at my enemies. And anyone else I desire.
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Terms of the contract to last for eternity, or until the commencement of Armageddon and the Final Battle. I’ll surrender to the hellhound chow crew when the time comes, but want to fully enjoy myself up until the actual need arises, and not be set to some arbitrary short time period of pleasure and then have to suffer an indefinite eternity of torment waiting for the Final Days. Hey, you still get what you really need - souls for The Final Battle.
By the way, James Randi is actually an Amercian citizen now. He once may have been Canadian, but he immigrated and naturalized.
We take your soul when you die. We’re not taking it before then, nor do we kill you early (unless you breach your contract) because if we agree to the transaction, it’s because we judge the power and wealth you obtain in the deal with allow you to be of practical service to the LowerArchy. Why would we waste resources?
We’re not trying to damn you. I mean, if you’re willing to consider the deal, you’re probably going to Hell for OTHER reasons. 
We’re not cheating you over Snickers. Snickers are cheap.
Like you could tell the difference between one of our succubuses and her mortal template. But of course Hell is fine with your inflicting pain and suffering on the innocent. It’s expected. Were you to refrain from acts of villainy, you would be judged in breach of your contract and dragged bodily to the Pit of Everlasting Wailing.
You can’t have Natalie Portman, though. She’s an agent for the Lion, and that would be needlessly provocative. We will move into battle with the Other Place when the time is right by our reckoning, not yours. The purpose of this war is to win it, not to satisfy your lurid little fantasies.
The Boss requires that you change this one to The ability to shoot lightning from my fingertips at my enemies without injuriing or killing myself. You will die when Hell is done with you, not before. And of course if we provide you with infernal abilities or weapons, it will be with the understanding that you will have to whack people for us from time to time.
Not Nancy Grace, by the way. She’s on the infernal payroll, and the Boss is quite pleased with her work; the only ding she’s ever gotten on her performance review was for not reducing Elizabeth Smart to tears. I’d stay on her good side if I were you, because if the Boss has to choose, he won’t even blink.
We have no reason to make you immortal. You will live out your destined lifetime. It’s not like you have much to bargain with.
You want to argue with the Prince of Darkness, Author of Deceit, Inventor of Murder, and Canceller of Firefly? Do it on your own time.
Well then, what’s the point?
Skald, how are your marketing/recruiting efforts affected by the obvious difficulty, from your point of view, with big legged women?
I don’t see your meaning, Counselor. Care to expand?
*Take too long b’fore I found out
What people mean by down and out.
Spent my money, took my car,
Started tellin’ her friend she’ goin’ be a star.
I don’t know, but I’ve been told
A Big legged woman ain’t got no soul
*
Black Dog, Led Zeppelin. Which suggests to me that big legged women either have no product to sell, or may be working for a previously unknown competitor.
Ah.
I am not familiar with that song. For reasons you need not concern yourself with, Led Zeppelin recordings cannot pass the River Styx.
You really are in Hell, then. I bet Lynyrd Skynyrd, grits, and sweet tea are equally hard to come by down there. Sorry about the cold snap. The New Orleans Saints won the Super Bowl, the Mississippi State Bulldogs beat Ole Miss in the Egg Bowl, and Alabama won the BCS Championship all in one season.
That said, I think you probably have a competitor. Further research into my sacred scrolls reveals:
Been dazed and confused for so long it’s not true,
Wanted a woman, never bargained for you.
Lots of people talk and few of them know,
Soul of a woman was created below. yeah!