George was breathing heavily and the nostrils of his thin nose were quivering. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go!"
The Devil smiled. "There is no hurry my friend. Calm yourself. Here, let us drink some wine." He picked up the decanter and poured what was left into two cups. He handed one to George.
"To our future," said the Devil, drinking quickly.
"To our future," said George, sipping the wine, looking a bit perplexed.
The Devil's eyes bored into George. "What is wrong, my friend? You look puzzled."
"Well, I was just wondering," said George. "You know, just aimlessly wondering."
"What about?" asked the Devil.
"Well, I guess I shouldn't ask, but ... but Henry was such a good friend ... are you positive that you saw my wife with him in that parked car last week?"
The devil shrugged, a shrewd grin pulling at his lips. "I could be wrong about that. You'd never forgive yourself, would you? Wouldn't that be Hell!"
And George, realizing suddenly for the first time that it was, screamed long and—heatedly.