"Man, this sucks," Bryan said. "I hate working in a screen-printing shop this time of the year. We never have any shirts to print and they won’t even let us go home early. Just have to sit here all day getting high off of xylene. And it’s not even a good high, either."

"I know," Cass said. "And they don’t even give us a Ping-Pong table or a TV for us to watch. Not even a football. We work in an athletic store and we can’t even have a football to pay with."

"Yeah," Bryan said. "Why can’t they let me stay home and mail me my check."

"What are you guys whining about?" Ryan said "This is an average day for me--no matter what time of year it is. What you are now experiencing is the life of an outlet worker."

"Why don’t you stop whining? No one wants to hear someone else whine about dumb stuff like that," Bryan said.

"But you were just complaining about being bored and high and wanting to go home."

"Yeah, but I didn’t have to listen to it. I said it. That’s different. Anyway, did either of you guys watch TV last night?"

"I was at the mall," Ryan said.

"I didn’t either," Cass said. "Why?"

"Craziest thing I ever seen. Some dude had his soul taken by Satan and all these priests held him down and waved this cross around. Dude was kicking and screaming and the priest de-souled him or something. It was on Dateline or something like that."

"Man, how dumb are you?" Cass asked. "First of all--I’m sure you were drunk. B--you were high. And lastly, you were probably drunk. Besides, you really think Satan’s going to just take over some guy’s soul? And why are you trying to make us think you were watching Dateline? We know you were probably watching `Wheel of Fortune’ or wrestling."

"What are you talking about? I...okay, that’s possible," Bryan said.

"So, Cass," Ryan said. "You don’t think people can sell their souls?"

"How do you do it then? I never read anywhere in the Bible where it tells you how to sell your soul."

"That’s because you can’t read and the Bible doesn’t have pictures," Bryan said. "But assuming one of us could read, how would we get Satan to just appear in front of us in that big cloud of smoke and all that.?"

"I don't know that you actually get to see Satan," Ryan said. "I think it’s more of an understood agreement. Like, you ask for something, and then if you get it, your probably going to Hell."

"So," Bryan said. "Do you just say `O Dark Lord of the Fiery Abode, I give unto you my soul in exchange for ... What do you ask for?"

"I don’t know," Ryan said. "I guess the usual thing the power of the Dark Side is for--women."

"Don’t forget beer, man." Bryan said. "And weed. That’s all about the Dark Side."

"I know what I’d sell my soul for," Cass said. "To live inside that stuffed bear for ten years. I mean, all it does is just stand there. The plate on the case says the boss killed it forty years ago and I bet it hasn’t done anything since. All everyone does is look at it. I hate to see it go to waste."

"You mean you want to be the bear?" Ryan asked.

"No," Cass said. I just want to live inside it. It’s probably hollow, so there’d be room for me inside."

"Man," Bryan said. "Then why don’t you stop being an idiot and just cut a hole in him now and climb in. I could bring you food after I eat lunch."

"Yeah, there’d be no need to sell your soul," Ryan said. "But if you did, you could take it further. Like make it part of the deal that you wouldn’t need to eat, but if you wanted to then food would magically appear inside the bear. But be sure and make it so you couldn’t get killed either."

"Yeah, man," Cass said. "That’s it. I’m going to be a bear. Stand back, guys. If this works, you could get burned. Okay. here goes. O’ Fiery Father, O’ Demonic Duke of Death, I offer unto you..."

"Wait Cass," Ryan said.

"What? I know you didn’t think of something better than living inside a bear and rampaging. Hurry up before I lose my nerve."

"But why limit the rampaging to only ten years?" Ryan asked.

"You don’t think that ten is enough? Twenty or thirty ought to do it then. O’ Prince of Pestilence..."

"Wait a second," Ryan said. "I think I may have found a loophole in the whole soul-selling thing. Maybe you can live inside the bear and not have to spend an eternity in the fiery lake."

"Cool, man," Bryan said. "That would be the first smart thing that you’ve done since you’ve worked here. Out-smarting the devil would kind of make up for six months of getting high off xylene."

"Hold on. Hear me out and tell me what you think. Instead of ten years--or even twenty or thirty--why not ask for an eternal life inside the bear. if you’re granted immortality you’ll never die and then never have to venture past the threshold into hell."

"I don’t see why it wouldn’t work," Bryan said.

"Yeah," Ryan said. "Come on, Cass Do it."

"I don’t know," Cass said.

"What? Man, you can’t psyche us up like that and not follow through," Bryan said.

"Now that we’ve talked about it through..."

"Look," Ryan said. "We decided that if you do it my way, then you don’t have to go to Hell."

"See that’s the thing."

"You want to go to Hell?" Bryan asked.

"No," Cass said. "But I don’t want to live inside the bear forever either. I mean, you guys aren’t going to be here forever. Bryan, your going to OD on xylene eventually. And Ryan, one day you’re going to lose it and kill some customers. But I would still be inside the bear. Then someday everything’s going to catch on fire and the world’s going to end and all that. And all the people are going to be in Heaven or Hell. Except for me and everyone else living inside bears. That would leave us alone on Earth forever to rampage. I’d get bored just standing there all day watching the fire burn everything. I mean, I like fire as much as the next guy--but when it burns everything I won’t have anything left to rampage on. At least before I had something to look forward to. Even if that was living inside an oven forever."

"So," Ryan said. "You don’t want to sell your soul because you wouldn’t have to go to Hell. That’s supposed to be the drawback."

"Man," Bryan said. "Just leave him alone. He’s stupid."