Chapter 3

In which matters come to a rather dubious conclusion, an offer is made and rejected and being a Londoner turns out to be more worthwhile than having a soul.

It has been a while, a while meaning hundreds of years (but what is a hundred years against all eternity), since Mister Smith took the offer of Mister Heath. Hell had changed for the better, or worse depending on your point of view, these days lots of money was being made.

 Mister Smith’s success partially came from the amount of political assassinations that had occurred in the world of the living, who would have guessed that politicians knew so much about moving numbers around?

In order to increase work efficiency Mister Smith had taken a few decades to find a man who could make the trains run on time. Eventually he had found a German man in his late seventies in one of the lowest circles of the hell.

Thanks to him the damned were now able to come to work on time, if not wholly unharmed. It was Sunday afternoon when Mister Smith was approached at his favorite café by a rather clean man in a white suit.

Normally he would have waved the stranger away; a man in a white suit can’t be trusted after all. The fellow however seemed to be rather persistent.  “Mister Smith I presume?” Mister Smith nodded. “My name is Ezekiel; I’m an angel of the Lord.”

Ezekiel had an oily voice and an American accent which sounded horrific. “After careful consideration and several meetings with the board heaven has decided to forge a new soul for you from the fires of creation.”

Ezekiel waved with his hand as if he was a magician performing a magic trick and suddenly an official looking document was lying in front of Mister Smith. Ezekiel gave him a pen and pointed at a dotted line. “If you would just sign there everything will be taken care of.”

He flashed his perfectly straight and white teeth with a grin that was far too large for his face. “It is an all-inclusive deal; before you know it you will have your new soul, live in heaven and be happy for all eternity.

Terms and conditions apply, naturally.”  Mister Smith was a little thrown off by the way this angel operated. The man was so rude, so insensitive and not caring. “Mister Angel I would love to look over the terms and conditions.” Coffee fell on the floor; Ezekiel looked at him with astonishment.

“Why would you want to read them? Nobody ever reads the terms and condition? Don’t you understand that your very soul is at stake here? If heaven retracts the offer you will have to stay in hell forever!” Mister Smith nodded and smiled.

“Still reading the rems and conditions is a matter of protocol to me, I would like to see them. Aside from that I would like to talk it over with my lawyer to make sure everything goes according to the law.” Mister Smith nodded again and drained his cup of tea, Earl Grey naturally.

You would be surprised if you knew about the facilities one can find in hell. These facilities are used by hells rich and famous. It is on the eighteen holes golf course that we find Paul Bergrin. Known as the most corrupt lawyer in history Mister Bergrin represents only members of hells exclusive VIP list.

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While alive he ran a criminal empire and was a lawyer as an afterthought. The past few years have been quiet for Mister Bergrin. The inhabitants of hell have lost their taste for suing each other and have gone back to secretly assassinating the competition.

 Not that Mister Bergrin complains, life (or death depending on your point of view) is much less complicated when you don’t have to do any real work. Mister Bergrin was just contemplating how easy his life had become when his phone started ringing.

Mister Smith waited patiently and when Mister Bergrin did he looked the papers over once and spat on the ground. “My lord I have to warn you this shite is rigged.” Mister Smith nodded. “Please mind your language Mister Bergrin.

 Would you be so kind as to enlighten me what exactly the problem seem to be?” Bergrin scratched his head. “Well guv if you sign this you will get your soul and a one way ticket to the big happy place but it also says that your personality might change and your memories might fade to dust, leaving you an idiot.” Mister Smith nodded and smiled.

 “That will be all Mister Bergrin, thank you for your time.” Bergrin scratched his head again. “But guv…” Mister Smith looked at him with a fixed smile in place. “That will be all Mister Bergrin.” Bergrin didn’t waste a second.

 The only man who had ever looked at him like that was Mister Heath and if you have a head on your shoulders you don’t want to be in fifty mile radius of that man or anyone who closely associates with him.

 After Mister Bergrin had left Mister Smith turned back to Ezekiel. “It seems Mister Angel that I will have to decline your offer. You see I highly value my memories. Before all things I’m a Londoner and losing my memories would mean that I wouldn’t be able to remember being a Londoner.

Second a man of my age shouldn’t suddenly root up his life and change his personality. No, I’m afraid I will have to decline your offer.” Ezekiel just sat there, his jaw almost on the table. “You would rather stay here with the filth than be happy forever?” Mister Smith started laughing.

 “Look around you Mister Angel this is London, it is smelly, it is dirty, weird people live here, but to me this is home. Up there in heaven I have a feeling I wouldn’t fit. Oh no, if I listen to your accent I wouldn’t fit at all.” Mister Smith sipped his tea.

 “Now I would like to propose a deal. I will sell you the rights to my soul. For a million Hellion pounds you will have complete ownership of my soul.” Thus it went down for the first time in history that a man sold his soul to an angel rather than the devil. If Mister Smith’s story shows us one thing it is that it is true what they say, one man’s heaven can be another man’s hell.