"Now I'll let you come with me to Hell," said the Devil. "And I'll make
you a demon or a ghoul," he grinned, "or something."
George was breathing heavily and the nostrils of his thin nose were
quivering. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go!"
The Devil smiled. "There is no hurry my friend. Calm yourself. Here,
let us drink some wine." He picked up the decanter and poured what was
left into two cups. He handed one to George.
"To our future," said the Devil, drinking quickly.
"To our future," said George, sipping the wine, looking a bit perplexed.
The Devil's eyes bored into George. "What is wrong, my friend? You look
puzzled."
"Well, I was just wondering," said George. "You know, just aimlessly
wondering."
"What about?" asked the Devil.
"Well, I guess I shouldn't ask, but ... but Henry was such a good
friend ... are you positive that you saw my wife with him in that
parked car last week?"
The devil shrugged, a shrewd grin pulling at his lips. "I could be
wrong about that. You'd never forgive yourself, would you? Wouldn't
that be Hell!"
And George, realizing suddenly for the first time that it was, screamed
long and--heatedly.