"I'm with Stupid"
The T-Shirt slogan on the Soul in front of me seemed peculiarly poignant. Stupid he most certainly was, having been 'gathered' with what the lesser demons called the "Camelot curse" - trading their immortal spirits for a lottery win, which regularly brought in hundreds for as little as £10 a life - rarely did they actually define exactly how much they wanted to win. It was all about the rules, really. HIM upstairs… you know… insisted.
The obligatory 'get out' clause, the battle of wits, wasn't required by HIM, but NICK said there wasn't any fun without the chase. Nostalgic I know, but an escape clause had won significant latitude from HIM despite his SON objecting; some whining about the spirit rather than the letter of the Law. Kids eh?
This particular battle of wits, chosen by the Mark as tradition dictated, was showing how stupid you could be; whoever showed the most stupidity would win. It beat bloody Fiddle Competitions and meeting at Crossroads though, and had been quite a challenge.I'd quite enjoyed it.
This Soul had started well, asking "Why is it I've only got one brother when my sister has two?"
I'd given as good as I'd got, mostly naive politics, but this guy was really good at Stupidity. Then it happened. He totally floored me…
"I'm SO stupid, I'm going to give in. My soul is yours!"
"er…" If you'd ever wondered, devils do sweat. It cures Cancer apparently. "I'm SO… stupid I'm…"
I was desperate. NICK would have a fit.
"… going to…"
"… tear up your contract. You're free to go!"
I smiled. I'd done it. WIN! Yes! Another Soul off my quota. Then he smiled back, took off his shirt, tossed it to me and started to walk away.
"A present for your Boss."
"Wait a…" then it hit me. I looked down at the faded letters on the cloth. It was all about the rules, really. "I'm with Stupid"