The devil himself was smiling at Fred, his office was decorated like to the principal’s office of Fred’s old school. Fred, fearful, was being reprimanded for not removing all the brimstone from the desks.
“But sir,” he whimpered, “the children come in when I’m finished, and mark them up. I can’t stop them!” The Devil only laughed, and sent him for a lashing, and to do the job again.
Hours later, finished, exhausted and in pain, the Devil called him into the office and pointed at a still dirty desk. Fred had had enough. “I CLEANED IT,” he yelled. Grabbing the Devil’s whip off the wall, he started whipping the Devil, putting all his rage and years of torment into every crack. The Devil cried out, but Fred would not let up. He laughed at the power, the feeling of freedom, even as he felt the horns sprouting from his head.