George pulled a small revolver from his breast pocket. "I have it from what I believe to be a thoroughly reliable source that while I was out of town last week you were out with my wife."
Henry's jaw dropped. "Why that's absurd!"
George pulled back the safety catch on his gun. "I heard you were out with my wife in a parked car on a dark and lonely road. I heard you were doing things with my wife in a parked car on a dark and lonely road."
Sweat glistened on Henry's forehead. "Me out with your wife? That's preposterous! And you know it! Now put down that gun! Do you hear me? Put it down!"
"No, I don't hear you," smiled George, pulling the trigger. "I don't hear you at all."
A small hole appeared between Henry's eyes and he slipped from his chair to the floor. What was left of his goblet of wine spilled on his shirt front.
George looked at his dead friend for a moment then pocketed his gun. "How did I do?" he called out to a dark corner of the room.
A tall, heavy-set man in a black suit stepped out of the darkness, walking towards the fireplace. His silver hair sparkled in the dancing light. "Fine, my friend, fine."
George sighed contentedly. "And now you'll let me go with you?"
"Now I'll let you come with me to Hell," said the Devil. "And I'll make you a demon or a ghoul," he grinned, "or something."