The blood-stained, leathery scroll on my desk was pretty clear. One hundred sacrifices, and I’d summon the great and powerful S’tan for three wishes. He’d be bound to me until he could fulfill my wishes, after which he’d head back to the spirit realm, or… wherever the hell demons reside.

 

       I’d been considering this stupid scroll for weeks. Like, my life hasn’t been in the greatest of places, you know? I constantly wished that some wealthy billionaire would throw a small stipend of $20k my way. Money would solve a lot of problems right about now. However, the likeliness of that happening is… pretty bad, to put it lightly. In lieu of a mysterious benefactor who’s friggin’ loaded with blood money…a magical demonic sugar daddy might not be the worst thing I could get. 

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       However, I’m not really the murdering type. So, where the hell am I going to get 100 human sacrifices from?

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       Tax season is coming, I’ve got debt collectors on my ass, I’m two and a half months behind on rent, and I’ve got my sick mother to take care of. That’s not to mention Nessa and her Sephora addiction, and my diabetic border collie.  

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       All these thoughts run through my head as I rush to get ready for work. Lab coat, check. Key ring, check. Wallet, check… Impulsively, I grab the supposed summoning scroll off my desk, shove it into my bag, and drive to work.

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       The day passes slowly. Even slower because, Thursdays are my night to close the lab, and I know I’m going to be here till at least 9. I sigh, continuing checking on the growth and development of the antibiotic bacterial samples we’ve been trying to destroy for weeks. A degree in microbiology will be fun, they said. You get to do science, they said. No, all you get to do is struggle as single-celled organisms without a highly developed prefrontal cortex continue to outsmart an entire group of scientists with varying levels of higher education. 

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       I’m torn from my frustrated train of thought as my boss calls out to me.

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       “Hey, I’m gonna clock out early today. You’re good to shut the lab down by yourself, right?” he asked.

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       “Yeah, I’ll be good. These bacteria don’t have legs, I don’t think they’re gonna try and escape as I shove them back into the cabinets.”

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       My boss chuckles before giving me a lazy “peace” sign (that he’s way too old to pull off) and heading through the door. It shuts behind him with a gentle click as I rise from my chair to begin cleaning the lab. 

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       My thoughts wander as I head to the staff lockers. I absentmindedly punch in the code to my locker, muscle memory allowing my brain to continue its path to elsewhere. I open my locker and pull the pale scroll from my bag, rolling the leathery texture in between my fingertips. The feeling used to weird me out, as did the blood soaked into the scroll, but I figured it’s probably just for aesthetics. If I was a demon, I’d sure as hell have a less cliché aesthetic than human sacrifices and bloodstained scrolls. 

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       I grab the scroll and carry it with me as I’m cleaning the lab. I wipe down the counters, sweep the floors, and set down my scroll on the counter before beginning to put away the petri dishes of bacteria back into the cabinet to see how the new dosage of antibiotics fairs on eliminating the bacterial scourge of methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus. I reach to open the cabinet and promptly drop the petri dish directly onto the scroll.

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       “Shit!” I yell, watching the glass shards fall off the counter and onto the floor. “Oh, no no no no… and that one was looking promising-” I halt as the lights begin to flicker and the room starts to shake. I steady myself against the counter as the shaking grows in intensity, and a dull roar fills the room. The roar grows louder and louder until suddenly, the room goes pitch black. The roaring continues growing in volume until it’s at an almost unbearable level. The shaking stops and the room goes silent.

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       Was… that an earthquake?

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       Despite the lack of functioning lights, the lab is relatively visible and bathed in a dull red glow. I lift my hand from the counter and turn around to pick up the glass shards before jumping back in a start.

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       “What the f-”

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       “You rang?” interrupts the glowing red form in front of me, a wicked grin plastered onto the figure’s face. 

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       I stumble backwards in shock, before running into a chair and stumbling to the floor. I look up to study the… man in front of me, sitting on the counter. He’s got a humanoid form, pale skin, horns, and a red tail swishing back and forth behind him. He’s wearing a leather jacket, a Pink Floyd t-shirt, sunglasses, black jeans, and a belt with a huge, shiny buckle that has the letters “B.A.M.F.” on it. His figure emanates a red glow that basks the entire lab in dull light. I stay sprawled on the floor in shock, trying to process the man I see in front of me.

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       “What, you’re not gonna say anything? Usually you guys have some sort of offering,” the man says. His voice is slick and smooth, with licks of a devilish desire hidden amongst the suavity in his tone.

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v“No virgins, though. I seriously don’t need any more virgin sacrifices. Gross.” 

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       “I- Uh… wha… who… are you?” I stutter, pushing myself off the floor.

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       “Did you even READ the scroll? I’m S’tan! The demon? The great and powerful?” the demon sighs. “Not ringing any bells? I swear, mortals are so entitled,” he says, deadpan, before quickly barking with laughter. He stops laughing to say, “Okay, I’m getting bored. Please say literally anything.”

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       I take a step closer to the demon, studying his appearance further. He has small, studded earrings and a thick mane of jet-black hair that he’s got slicked back. “You look like you came straight from a rock concert,” I say, laughing at the premise. 

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       “Who’s to say I didn’t? But I’m not here to tell you about the entertainment lineup in the Underworld- you called for your wishes, right?” The demon clasped his hands together, his eyes glimmering behind his sunglasses.

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       “My… wishes?”

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       “Yeah! Okay, let’s go over this contract again- you seem to have forgotten it.” The demon snapped his fingers and in his other hand appeared the same leathery, bloodstained scroll I’d been carrying in my bag earlier.  “Alright, quick recap: 100 sacrifices and you summon me, the great and all powerful- you know what, you get the title by now. You ask for three wishes, I grant them, and then I go on my merry way until I get summoned again. Capiche?”

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       “…Yeah, sure.” 

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       “So, what’s your first wish gonna be, bucko?”

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       “Bucko? Really? I- never mind,” I say, shifting my feet. “What do people usually wish for?” I ask.

 

       “Oh, you could guess. Money, power, fame, eternal life. Don’t ask for eternal life, though, that one never works out.”

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       “Well… I guess money would solve a lot of my problems. How much can I ask for?”

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       “How much can you ask for?” the demon laughed. “As much as you want! Well, as long as the sacrificial power was enough. Which… I must say, I’m impressed. You don’t really seem the murderous type, but… I’ve had weirder clients before.”

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       “Well… a million dollars. I’ll take a million dollars.”

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       “That’s it?” The demon waggled his eyebrows, his tone of voice sly.

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       “Alright, ten million! Make it ten!” I said, excitement quelling up in my throat.

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       “Ten million dollars, coming right up!” The demon hopped off the counter, landing on the ground with a thump. “You ready? Watch this,” he said, before snapping his fingers.

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       I waited. 

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       Nothing happened.

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       “Hold on, I… it must be an off night. I swear, this doesn’t happen to me… no, this happens to all demons every now and again…” S’tan said, snapping his fingers again and again, growing more and more frustrated with each failed snap.

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       Great. I accidentally summon a demon and I get one with Summoning Dysfunction, I think.

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       I was pulled from my train of thought when S’tan suddenly shouted “AHA!” I refocused my eyes to see six one-hundred dollar bills floating down from the ceiling. I reached out and snatched one from the ground, holding it in my hands, my eyes wide. 

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       “Y-you did it!”

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       “Of course I did it! I’m the best demon on the block, baby!” S’tan twirled around before striking a herculean pose, flexing his muscles.

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       “Well… wait, where’s the rest of it?” I asked.

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       S’tan stopped his flexing. “Yeah, hold on, great question… where is the rest of it?” He bent down to scoop up the other five bills from the ground, counting them in his hand. He began furiously snapping again, before stopping with an angry yell.

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       “This doesn’t make sense! This should’ve been what you asked for… in Summoning School they teach you that, granted that the sacrifice is provided, your power to create should be limited only by… oh no, you aren’t the murdering type, are you?”

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       “Limited only by what?”

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       “Show me what you summoned me with,” S’tan said.

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       “Well, see… I didn’t mean to summon you?”

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       “Well, how did you do it then?”

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       “I’m not sure! I just simply… summoned you?” I walked past S’tan to where I left the scroll on the counter, brushing the glass shards off the blood-stained paper. “I just sorta… dropped a petri dish onto the paper and-“

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       S’tan roared. “You summoned me with bacteria? What in God’s name made you think that was a good idea?” 

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       “It was an accident! I didn’t- wait, are you saying that God is real?”

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       “Frankly, I don’t know at this point! He never calls anymore. Ever since I started contracting, he’s gotten so distant… and we used to be such good pals.”

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       “You were ‘pals’ with God- wait, contracting? Being summoned is contracting to you?”

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       “I’ve gotta make a living somehow!”

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       “You’re a freaking demon! That doesn’t make any sense!”

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       “This isn’t the point of the conversation! Look, I physically can’t summon more money because the sacrificial power you gave me was equivalent to a bumblebee’s ass. You made 100 sacrifices, but it’s all from Salmonella bact-“

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       “Staphylococcus bacteria,” I corrected.

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       “Yeah, whatever, it’s friggin’ bacteria,” S’tan huffed.   

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       I waited in silence for him to say something before asking, “So… you can’t fill my wishes?”

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       “Not to the extent that either of us would like.”

 

       Exasperated, I sighed. “What the hell? This sucks way more than Beetlejuice.”

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       “Look, I’m sorry, but you’re gonna need a bigger sacrifice than what you gave. May I suggest: murder?”

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       “What? Dude, no! That’s not even an option.” Frustrated, I picked up the contract and scanned. 

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       “You’re uh… not gonna find anything on there…” S’tan said, shifting his weight. He reached forward and tried to grab it from me, but I pulled it out of his grasp and took a step back.

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       “Let me look. This can’t be right! I thought demon contracts were supposed to be useful.”

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       “No, just like… give me the scroll, and I can head back to the spirit world-”

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       “Look, right here!” I cut him off and jammed the scroll in his face, pointing with my thumb at a specific line. “It says right here that you’re bound to me until you can fulfill my wishes,” I said. “You have to help me! It’s in the contract!”  

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       “Oh, God DAMMIT!” S’tan yelled. Suddenly, a loud crack of thunder crashed loud and clear above us, making me jump. “Sorry, God…” the demon mumbles, before finishing with a quiet, “jackass.”  

I paused for a moment, before asking, “So… are you gonna help me or what?”

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       “I don’t have much of a choice now that you’ve actually read the stupid contract,” he sighed. “I don’t know how I’m going to make an oaf like you a millionaire.” 

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       “You’ll find a way,” I said. “Now, help me clean up this lab.”

 

       S’tan sat hunched in front of a computer, the dark, oaken desk supporting both the computer monitor and his elbows. I stood on the opposite side of the office, watching the cars pass by on the streets thirty floors below. I stroked my chin, realizing how much I need to shave, when I heard S’tan shout “EUREKA!”

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       “Whoa, what is it?” I said, turning around to face the demon.

 

       “TEN MILLION! That’s ten million dollars in sales, and we’re only gonna keep skyrocketing higher!” The demon got up and did what looked like an old Irish jig, his demonic tail spinning in circles behind him. “If you hadn’t jacked up the summoning, I could’ve used my powers and this would’ve been over months ago, but I guess doing things the old-fashioned way wasn’t too hard.”

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       “Yeah, you did good. I didn’t know demons could be such cutthroats in the business world.”

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       “So… can I go now? Can I please go now?”

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       “Well… there is one more thing I’d like to ask of you.”

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       “What is it?” S’tan asked, an edge creeping into his voice.

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       “Well… two things, really.”

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       “Yes?”

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       “I have two more wishes.” I said. I watched the color drained from the demon’s face, realizing the position he was stuck in.

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       “God DAMMIT!” he yelled.

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       In the distance, you could faintly hear a crack of thunder.