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The Patron Saint of the Good-Looking Corpse

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"Come in friend and take a seat. My name? Call me Jack... I run this establishment."

"I've been working this bar for the better part of a hundred years. Got a nice stage, we got entertainment later if you're sticking around?"

"Uh-huh. Well do you have time for a drink? Okay. What was that? The hundred years thing? Yeah, friend, I'm a little older than I look. I'm a demon."

"I can tell from your expression that you've never bumped into one of us before. We do exist. I guarantee that by the end of this conversation, I'll have swung your opinion. Don't worry, I'm not a threat. Hardly good for business."

"And my business is important to me. On that stage you'll see some of the best talent in the biz. I consider myself a 'talent scout' without equal."

"I specialize in contracts for fame and fortune. I can give the lucky individual ten years of their dreams and then I come to collect. In return they play at my club for the rest of eternity. They almost never think twice. One catch, though. I can only make this deal with them whilst they are seventeen."

"I don't know why, I don't make the rules."

"Who do I have? You probably know a few of them. The first guy I signed was something really special. Created an entire genre by himself. Kid by the name of Robert, a real demon on the guitar, if you'll pardon the pun. It seems everyone and his brother knew about our deal, though."

"Yeah, the crossroads thing. Well, it did make the subject easier when I was talking to later pitches. Thing with Robert is he wasn't ready to give it up when I came to collect, so I had to grease the wheels, so to speak. Strychine poisoning can be incredibly painful, or so I hear."

"This is the thing. They are happy for the trade at seventeen, but the moment they hit twenty-seven it starts to consume them. It becomes all they can think about. Some will use it to drive them to write as much as they can. Others will try and use as many distractions as possible to not think about it."

"You know, drugs, alcohol, women. The good things in life. Need a refill there, champ?"

"This one guy, Kurt, now he surprised me. He worked out how to summon me, against my will, I might add. Yanked me right into his goddamned front-room. Just as I'm about to give the shaggy haired fool a piece of my mind, he pulls out a shotgun and says that he is breaking the deal."

"Blew his brains out right in front of me. I mean, come on?! The deals are binding. Killing yourself just gets you here faster. I am a freaking demon. My kind invented fine print."

"Another cat I should mention is Jimi. He was a rare one I tell you. The kid was tripping so hard when he got here, it took us a week to convince him he was dead. All he cared about was as long as he had a guitar to play. Now he plays every Friday night, packs the place out every time."


"Come on, I've worked hard for them, and now they work hard for me."

"This bar is something I take pride in. I have some of the best entertainment in the world, and here I showcase it to any who know how to get here."

"You don't remember how you got here. Yeah, I've been meaning to talk to you about that. Something tells me you've got a little more free time than you realize."

"Fancy another drink?"

Written by The Silicon Lemming 
Content is available under CC BY-SA

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