Tuesday, March 26, 2019
Creepypasta
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Satan Offered Me a Job

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    Estimated reading time — 4 minutes

    “I’m sorry, did you say Satan?”

    The young man standing on my porch nodded eagerly.

    “Yes, sir!” he said. “We have come to spread the message of our lord and savior Satan.”

    I looked from him to his companion. Both were dressed in ill-fitting white button down shirts and black slacks, with gelled up side part haircuts and slightly manic smiles.

    “Okay…” I said. “Well, I’m not really into the lord and savior thing so I think I’m gonna have to pass.”

    I closed the door only to find the young man’s foot obstructing it. I opened it back up and sighed.

    “Just a moment of your time, sir,” the young man said. “Perhaps a look at our literature could convince you.”

    The other young man lifted up his suitcase and popped open the latches. When I saw what was inside, my heart nearly jumped out of my chest.

    “Is that…real?” I asked.

    “Oh yes sir,” the first man said, “Go ahead and take a closer look.”

    I slowly reached out and picked up one of the bundles and inspected it. I’m no expert, but it certainly looked like a real stack of hundred dollar bills to me.

    I looked from the money, to the creepy but overall harmless seeming young men, and then I waved them inside. We sat down around my coffee table and there was a moment of awkward silence.

    “So uh…” I began, clearing my throat, “My name’s David. And you two are?”

    “Oh, forgive my rudeness, sir,” the first young man replied. “I am acolyte Paul, and this is acolyte Stephen.”

    “Uh… well, would you like anything to drink?”

    “Oh no, sir. We do not require sustenance as mortals do,”said Paul.

    “…Right,” I said.

    I picked up my half-finished beer from the night before and took a swig.

    The two young men just sat in silence, grinning at me as I drank. I coughed a little bit and the end of the beer and wiped the foam from my lips.

    “You said you came to spread a message, right?” I asked. “So what’s the message?”

    “We’re really glad you asked,” said Paul. “Satan is recruiting for skilled labor positions in Hell, and we’ve identified you as a top candidate! Congratulations, sir–this is fantastic news for you.”

    My eyes wandered to the suitcase full of money.

    “And uh… what does this job consist of?” I asked.

    “Asking all the right questions,” Paul replied. “You’re a sharp guy, David. The details are all laid out in this contract here. Stephen?”

    Stephen produced a single piece of paper from somewhere I couldn’t see and laid it on the coffee table.

    I picked up the paper and stared at it.

    “This is a contract?” I asked.

    “Oh yes sir,” said Paul.

    “What language is this?”

    “It’s written in Old Enochian, sir, the language of angels.”

    I set the contract back down on the table.

    “Well, what’s it say?” I asked.

    “I’m sorry sir,” said Paul. “I can’t read Old Enochian. We were just instructed by our superior to deliver the contract along with your signing bonus.”

    “Signing bonus?” I asked.

    Stephen popped open the latches to the suitcase once again.

    “So you’re telling me,” I said, setting down my beer, “that if I sign that piece of paper, you’re just going to give me a suitcase full of money.”

    “Yes sir, that’s the deal!” Paul said enthusiastically.

    I took another swig of beer.

    “Got a pen?” I asked.

    Paul handed me the pen and I scribbled my name messily on the bottom of the paper, which Stephen promptly snatched up and stowed away somewhere I didn’t see.

    “Wow, that’s great,” said Paul. “I guess we’d better go now.”

    “Alright,” I said. “I’ll see you later.”

    “Very funny sir,” said Paul. “Of course I meant we three had better go.”

    “What do you mean by—”

    My voice was cut off by a roaring sound as the three of us fell through the floor. Hot air rushed past us as we fell towards a distant red glow below us. Paul and Stephen’s faces remained frozen in their manic grins as their ties flapped up and whipped around their faces.

    We fell hard on the glowing red dirt below, sending up a cloud of dust around us. When the dust cleared I found myself in a strange cross between a cave and an office, facing a large obsidian desk behind which sat a high backed leather chair.

    The chair slowly swung around to reveal a smiling red demon in a suit.

    “Hi David,“ he said. “I’m Satan. Now let’s talk about that job.”

     

    CREDIT: lifeisstrangemetoo

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