"Are you down there?" called Geriatric Consumeri, only loudly enough to be heard by his intended in-the-basement audience, remaining unheard above the storm ensuing.
"Just as if I have nothing better to do," quipped the devil.
"May I come down?" JC persisted.
"Let me tidy up a minute."
"Okay," Jello-mold Calculator almost instantly figured the size of the crawlspace complicated by what he'd handled of Satan's use of time.
"How was the Coast Guard?" Satan asked, mischievously reclining, seductively made-up, right near his knees.
"They were fine," replied J.C., recovering his professional aplomb prior prompting, "In fact, some of them were very good," his effect only slightly shaken by his shiver.
"You can edit that, right?" he asked his producer.
"I adore your manly lack of assurance," said his new queen, "Do you want me to turn up the heat?"
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BE JUST AND FEAR NOT
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