loan to the party of the first part.
Notwithstanding additional grants of rights incurred under the terms of this
contract the rights responsibilities duties of the party of the first part to
the party of the second part are subject to the Consumer Credit Regulations of
2026…”
Davy shook his head. “Ah dinnae get it. Are ye tellin’
me ye’re givin’ me a wish? In return for, for…bein’ radge a’ ma life?”
The Devil nodded. “Yes.”
Davy winced. “Ah think Ah need another
Deuchars–fuck! Haud on, that isnae ma wish!” He stared at the Devil
anxiously. “Ye’re serious, aren’t ye?”
The Devil sniffed. “I can’t discharge the obligation
with a beer. My Employer isn’t stupid, whatever Her other faults: she’d say I
was short-changing you, and she’d be right. It’s got to be a big wish, Davy.”
Davy’s expression brightened. The Devil waved a hand at
Katie: “Another Deuchars for my friend here. And a drop of the Craitur.” Things
were looking up, Davy decided.
“Can ye make Morag nae have…Ah mean, can ye make
things…awright again, nae went bad?” He dry-swallowed, mind skittering like a
frightened spider away from what he was asking for. Not to have…whatever.
Whatever he’d done. Already.
The Devil contemplated Davy for a long handful of
seconds. “No,” he said patiently. “That would create a paradox, you see,
because if things hadn’t gone bad for you, I wouldn’t be here giving you this
wish, would I? Your life gone wrong is the fuel for this miracle.”
“Oh.” Davy waited in silence while Katie pulled the
pint, then retreated back to the far end of the bar. Whaur’s Tam? he
wondered vaguely. Fuckin’ deil, wi’ his smairt suit an’ high heid yin manners…
He shivered, unaccountably cold. “Am Ah goin’ tae hell?” he asked roughly. “Is
that whaur Ah’m goin’?”
“Sorry, but no. We were brought in to run this universe,
but we didn’t design it. When you’re dead, that’s it. No hellfire, no
damnation: the worst thing that can happen to you is you’re reincarnated, given
a second chance to get things right. It’s normally my job to give people like
you that chance.”
“An’ if Ah’m no reincarnated?” Davy asked hopefully.
“You get to wake up in the mind of God. Of course, you
stop being you when you do that.” The Devil frowned thoughtfully. “Come to
think of it, you’ll probably give Her a migraine.”
“Right, right.” Davy nodded. The Devil was giving him a
headache. He had a dawning suspicion that this one wasn’t a prod or a pape: he
probably supported Livingstone. “Ah’m no that bad then, is that whit ye’re
sayin’?”
“Don’t get above yourself.”
The Devil’s frown deepened, oblivious to the stroke of
killing rage that flashed behind Davy’s eyes at the words. Dinnae get above
yersel’? Who the fuck d’ye think ye are, the sheriff? That was almost
exactly what the sheriff had said, leaning over to pronounce sentence. Ye
ken Ah’m naebody, dinnae deny it! Davy’s fists tightened, itching to hit
somebody. The story of his life: being ripped off then talked down to by
self-satisfied cunts. Ah’ll make ye regret it!
The Devil continued after a moment: “You’ve got to really
fuck up in a theological manner before she won’t take you, these days.
Spreading hatred in the name of God, that kind of thing will do for you.
Trademark abuse, she calls it. You’re plenty bad, but you’re not that bad.
Don’t kid yourself, you only warrant the special visit because you’re a quality
sample. The rest are…unobserved.”
“So Ah’m no evil, Ah’m just plain bad.” Davy grinned
virulently as a thought struck him. Let’s dae somethin’ aboot that! Karmic
imbalance? Ah’ll show ye a karmic imbalance! “Can ye dae somethin’ aboot
the weather? Ah hate the cauld.” He tried to put a whine in his voice. The
change in the weather had crippled house prices, shafted him and Morag. It
would serve the Devil
Notwithstanding additional grants of rights incurred under the terms of this
contract the rights responsibilities duties of the party of the first part to
the party of the second part are subject to the Consumer Credit Regulations of
2026…”
Davy shook his head. “Ah dinnae get it. Are ye tellin’
me ye’re givin’ me a wish? In return for, for…bein’ radge a’ ma life?”
The Devil nodded. “Yes.”
Davy winced. “Ah think Ah need another
Deuchars–fuck! Haud on, that isnae ma wish!” He stared at the Devil
anxiously. “Ye’re serious, aren’t ye?”
The Devil sniffed. “I can’t discharge the obligation
with a beer. My Employer isn’t stupid, whatever Her other faults: she’d say I
was short-changing you, and she’d be right. It’s got to be a big wish, Davy.”
Davy’s expression brightened. The Devil waved a hand at
Katie: “Another Deuchars for my friend here. And a drop of the Craitur.” Things
were looking up, Davy decided.
“Can ye make Morag nae have…Ah mean, can ye make
things…awright again, nae went bad?” He dry-swallowed, mind skittering like a
frightened spider away from what he was asking for. Not to have…whatever.
Whatever he’d done. Already.
The Devil contemplated Davy for a long handful of
seconds. “No,” he said patiently. “That would create a paradox, you see,
because if things hadn’t gone bad for you, I wouldn’t be here giving you this
wish, would I? Your life gone wrong is the fuel for this miracle.”
“Oh.” Davy waited in silence while Katie pulled the
pint, then retreated back to the far end of the bar. Whaur’s Tam? he
wondered vaguely. Fuckin’ deil, wi’ his smairt suit an’ high heid yin manners…
He shivered, unaccountably cold. “Am Ah goin’ tae hell?” he asked roughly. “Is
that whaur Ah’m goin’?”
“Sorry, but no. We were brought in to run this universe,
but we didn’t design it. When you’re dead, that’s it. No hellfire, no
damnation: the worst thing that can happen to you is you’re reincarnated, given
a second chance to get things right. It’s normally my job to give people like
you that chance.”
“An’ if Ah’m no reincarnated?” Davy asked hopefully.
“You get to wake up in the mind of God. Of course, you
stop being you when you do that.” The Devil frowned thoughtfully. “Come to
think of it, you’ll probably give Her a migraine.”
“Right, right.” Davy nodded. The Devil was giving him a
headache. He had a dawning suspicion that this one wasn’t a prod or a pape: he
probably supported Livingstone. “Ah’m no that bad then, is that whit ye’re
sayin’?”
“Don’t get above yourself.”
The Devil’s frown deepened, oblivious to the stroke of
killing rage that flashed behind Davy’s eyes at the words. Dinnae get above
yersel’? Who the fuck d’ye think ye are, the sheriff? That was almost
exactly what the sheriff had said, leaning over to pronounce sentence. Ye
ken Ah’m naebody, dinnae deny it! Davy’s fists tightened, itching to hit
somebody. The story of his life: being ripped off then talked down to by
self-satisfied cunts. Ah’ll make ye regret it!
The Devil continued after a moment: “You’ve got to really
fuck up in a theological manner before she won’t take you, these days.
Spreading hatred in the name of God, that kind of thing will do for you.
Trademark abuse, she calls it. You’re plenty bad, but you’re not that bad.
Don’t kid yourself, you only warrant the special visit because you’re a quality
sample. The rest are…unobserved.”
“So Ah’m no evil, Ah’m just plain bad.” Davy grinned
virulently as a thought struck him. Let’s dae somethin’ aboot that! Karmic
imbalance? Ah’ll show ye a karmic imbalance! “Can ye dae somethin’ aboot
the weather? Ah hate the cauld.” He tried to put a whine in his voice. The
change in the weather had crippled house prices, shafted him and Morag. It
would serve the Devil
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