How to Fix Your Life

He wears suits that probably cost more than my entire college fund. And with those eye glasses of his and his hairstyle, I know he probably outspent the meager savings I have in the bank. I sit in the chair in front of him with an air about him that just tells me to go fuck myself -- yet the smile on his lips is warm, welcoming. It is the smile that had suckered me into this conversation to begin with.

"So, let me get this straight," I say as I nervously fidget with the contract he had handed me. They said the devil was in the details and it certainly shows. He had promised we'd put this agreement in writing but I didn't know he'd be making a novel out of it. "I win a game of my choosing, and I get my wish."

He snaps his fingers and points right at me. "That's the tits of it."

I'm not sure if that was douchey of him or if I had just not caught up to the times so I just nod my head and look back down at the contract. "But if I lose, you get my soul..."

I let that part drag for a second before I glance back up at him. That same smile never leaves his lips, yet those eyebrows of his did pop skyward. "Buddy Bear, that's why you get to chose the game. Hell, I'm sitting here hoping you chose golf as the game - my handicap deserves special parking."

He laughs. Heck, I even snort but it’s more for show as I try to figure out how this sort of contract worked out for Johnny in Georgia. Unlike him, I wasn't the best fiddler there had ever been. Hell, unlike him, I wasn't the best anything there had ever been.

I glance down at the contract again, scanning the first line over again. Truth be told, it was the only one I had been reading, my mind just unwilling to believe this was happening. A thousand questions dance in my mind along with a thousand fantasies. I could get a life time supply of money - I wouldn't spend it all like some moron either. Nice home, nice life, nothing too ridiculous. Or I could wish to be famous. Or attractive. Or a genius. Hell, I could ask for super powers and be the next Spider-Man. Spidey get plenty of tail, right?

He snaps his fingers in my face which pulls me back to reality. He leans forward, the glasses on his nose sliding down enough so his eyes peek over the rims and at me. He offers me yet another grin before tapping at his watch. "Buddy Bear. It's about to get Ke$ha up in here -- Tick Tok. You in? You out?"

I stare at him, the world around me growing dull and silent. Time is stretching out and I feel like I'm stuck in an eternity within the count of a second. My stomach hurts, sweat forms on my brow, and I realize two things. First -- yes, he is douchey. Secondly, though... secondly, I was a complete failure at life.

I lower the contract to the table and just stare at the devil. Maybe it’s my imagination but there must be something in how I look because he frowns. I slide the contract towards him before scooting back in my chair. "My life is that bad, huh?"

He cants his head to the side, not following.

I scoot my chair in and just take a step away from the man. "I'm too much of a coward to act. I'm too much of a coward to write. I'm afraid of failure and people and hell -- I hate myself for hating myself." I toss back my head laughing.

"Hey, Chief, that's why I'm here to give you this -"

It's my turn to snap and point. I only hope I don't seem so douchey doing it. "Everything wrong in my life is my fault. And instead of fixing it by hard work, I almost signed your contract. How fucked up is that?" I pause, blink, and then whisper to myself. "How fucked up indeed."

I shake my head as the man rises from his seat, that smile of his returning. He tries to begin his act again, explaining about how he's bored and wants to help and how all my troubles were just bad luck. But I just stop him with another douchey snap.

"Take your golden fiddle, shove it up your ass, and go," I smirk as I collect my coat from the wall hook and call over my shoulder with a smirk “Oh, by the way... thanks.”

"For what?"

"I must have potential if you're offering me this contract. I don't know what the fuck I'm capable of doing but I know you guys don't come around to just anyone." I blow him a kiss as I open the office door and head on out.

He calls my name and I turn one last time towards the devil. He no longer looks happy and cocky and douchey. Truth be told, I swear I see an ever-so-slight wisp of smoke coming off of him. He meets my gaze over the rim of his glasses and says, "Just because you didn't sign, that doesn't mean we won't be seeing each other."

"I'll take that bet," I say as I turn around before shouting over my shoulder. "You're going to regret - I'm the best there's ever been."

And then I give him the finger.