#1683 – Accept
Posted on November 30, 2012 at 12:00 am by Chris
Chapter: Comics
The standard contracts were a real fire hazard anyway. Lots of singed carpeting. Look out if you were wearing baggy clothing. That was just asking for trouble.
Tags: app, devil, soul
I had a teacher who ‘sold his soul’
It’s apparently somewhat of a paradox, this thing about selling your soul. I read somewhere that if you are willing to sell your soul to the devil, then he’s already got your soul, making you unable to sell it to him.
…Well, I can’t say that I would know this for sure, because this is just something that I happened to read somewhere on the internet.
Well of course you can believe that. It was on the Internet!
But I said that I didn’t know for sure! And I don’t believe in selling your soul anyway, because I don’t believe in anything that I haven’t seen for myself anyway!
So you don’t believe in atoms?
If I’m willing to sell my soul, then the devil already has it. In which case I get nothing. But I’m not willing to sell my soul for nothing, that would be stupid. So if I would get nothing for my soul, I’m NOT willing to sell it. In which case the devil doesn’t already have it.
Paradox indeed!
I once tried to sign a contract with blood, but the pen kept clogging up with dried bits. The most I could get was a “bo” and part of another “o”. It looked like it said “boc”. I don’t know who Boc is, but he got to join that cult instead of me, which sucks because just 2 weeks later they all had a party where they drank Kool-aid and their souls were teleported to a spaceship. My soul is still at home, under one of the table legs keeping it level. I used to bring it to work with me, but nobody else was bringing theirs and I didn’t want to be the only one. I thought about selling it, but demand for souls is so low these days. Mine is kind of dusty and neglected anyway, so I don’t think I’d get much for it.
Blood makes for terrible ink really.
I wouldn’t do it, because I’m squeamish that way.
I once *rented* my Soul out for a while…
I tried to sell my soul once. I didn’t get anything.
At the crossroads, at midnight, like the (well-known) bluesman in Oh Brother, Where Art Thou. He’s waiting for his end of the deal, and instead, they come along.