Myron I. Scholnick

“ George smiled tightly. "And you see the dead in Hell, the fire and brimstone, and you hear their cries of anguish and it's quite pleasant."
"Then why don't you go with the Devil and be done with it?"
"But I am going to go, Henry."
"Then go!"
"But I must do something first. It's a sort of qualification."
"Yes?"
"I must kill someone."
"But that's most naughty, old boy, isn't it?"
"Not when you have a good reason."
Henry held up the decanter and looked at the small amount of wine that was left. He shook his head sadly. "But who's going to be your victim?"
"You," answered George. ”

“ George shook his head vigorously. "And I most certainly did. Yes. Met the Devil and had an enjoyable chat. He's a splendid chap, you know. Not at all like those pictures you see of him. No horns or red monkey outfit. He dresses most conservatively; wears a black suit. And he has nice gray hair." George patted his head. "Nice gray hair."
Henry poured himself another cup of wine and sipped it slowly. "But what did you talk about? I mean you have nothing in common at all."
"Oh no?" George shrugged. "But we do. We have much in common. I admire the Devil and told him so. ”

“ And he said that he would be glad to have me come and work for him."
"Work for him?"
"Yes. He wants me to go with him to his headquarters."
"But his headquarters are in ... a ... well you know."
"I know, but I still want to go. He said he would make me a demon or a ghoul or something." ”