The Oatmeal Phantomess

Melissa the Sorceress loved oatmeal. She lived in a kingdom where she could get access to different kinds of oatmeal. She knew all about all the oatmeals.
"This oatmeal is my fav!" she said.
"This one's not as good, but I still love all oatmeal."
"Somedays it just doesn't matter to me and I will take any oatmeal available."
Those are all things she said.

She would introduce peasants and erudite princes to this thing oatmeal. Erudite princes would act dazzled. Peasants would be pleased to receive. As well, all the trolls, oafs, ogres and troglodytes gobbled up the oatmeal she'd make and curate.

It was a point of pride how much she knew about oatmeal, and loved it. It made her feel unique. She could make it and not have to wave a wand or get some sort of dragon blood or anything. One day she found out that everyone liked oatmeal and it was a thing that was eaten and enjoyed in many ways all over. She was crushed.

"Hey want some oatmeal today?" said an oatmeal server.
"Um... I guess." she'd say.

She thought oatmeal was what made her unique. She was an oatmeal expert. She felt cheated that she'd spent so much time getting all this oatmeal info down only to not be a one-stop answer shop for all things oatmeal.
"Hey I know everything about oatmeal!" said some schmuck.
"Me too, did you know it's also good if you put sweet stuff in it!?" said some dumbass.
She yawned and scowled at these novices who ignored her.

Melissa was pissed. She cursed oatmeal. She cursed all things similar to oatmeal. One day she met a Sorceress named Sandra. She and Sandra loved each other and they went on a first date to get to know one another. They seemed like they'd be a perfect match. They both had form fitting scalp gear and large cloaks.

Sandra started talking about the stuff she liked.
"Have you heard about oatmeal? I think it's so cool." said Sandra.
"Yeah yeah, I know about oatmeal, yeah." said Melissa.
"What? Did I strike a nerve?"
"It's just, I knew about oatmeal for a long time and now everyone is always talking about oatmeal without giving me any credit."
"It's great you know a lot about oatmeal, but I don't think you deserve credit for liking the stuff." said Sandra. This was not what Melissa the Sorceress wanted to hear.

She cursed Sandra with an intense oatmeal appetite, which Sandra didn't mind. Then did a rain dance that made it rain oatmeal.
"Looks like it's gonna oatmeal rain." said and old man who looked at the sky.

The kingdom loved oatmeal and didn't mind that it rained oatmeal. Melissa felt stupid. Neither curse worked. She wanted to upset everyone but instead delighted them. Then she was upset because she didn't get credit for doing the oatmeal rain dance. This time she really did deserve credit, but again felt snubbed.

She plotted her next plan: to cast a spell on the next criminal scheduled for public beheading. It was Glenfield the Fop. Glenfield had been a bad boy and lifted the dress of the daughter of a wealthy family one too many times.

"Weeeheehee, I cannot say I have not heartily indulged in what pleasures thou has offered me, Lord!" declared Glenfield to the gathered public. The family was hungry for blood. Not oatmeal. Too bad though.

Glenfield's live neck was placed in the guillotine slot.
"Sssslomp!" said the dropping guillotine blade. The crowd's eyes awaited the satisfying and savage spillage. Yet, per Melissa's spell, his vacant neck did not spritz blood. It oozed oatmeal.

A collective gasp. A silence. A confusion. Melissa waited in anticipation to experience the public's evening in ruin. She fantasized her future as the Oatmeal Phantomess of the Kingdom. Yet foil would wrap her plan once again.

"It's not blood, it's oatmeal!" shouted the common folk. A clatter of murmur spread.
"Yum!" shouted a gentlemen.
"Gimme!" shouted a craggy old woman. The whole town, poor and rich alike, rushed to the body of Glenfield to slurp his body's oatmeal. It was like a great twist in a well written play. They expected blood, they got oatmeal, which was far more satisfying.

Melissa hung her head in discouragement. She wanted outrage, instead she gave them a great show with a delicious treat at the end.

But... she did not take into account that her oatmeal expertise would pay off. For her spell, she had replaced Glenfield's insides with one of the more delicious styles of oatmeal.

The kingdom mindlessly devoured Glenfield. There was not enough to feed them all. They began to fight and tug at his remains. Then they trampled and ripped each other apart in hopes of finding more oatmeal inside of people. It was kingdom times, so people were not as smart. They did not know back then, for certain, that some people weren't just filled with good warm oatmeal, and they wound up massacring each other.

Melissa the Sorceress looked up to see the mayhem. She had inadvertently achieved revenge.

"I think it's pretty sexy how you pulled that off." said Sandra the Sorceress, who had looked better than ever because she'd been eating lots of oatmeal.
"Oh, thanks. People should listen to me more often, hehe." beamed Melissa with modest jest.
"I think they will, you're the expert lady with great plan execution, as far as I'm concerned."
Melissa became a legend. She never revealed that her masterpiece massacre was an accident.

The Haunting of Ted Toilet

Ted Toilet woke up from a terrible dream! He shot up into a sitting position right in his bed. The dream was that bad and scary. He looked around his room, it was quiet. But he was puzzled about the sitting up part, because he was paralyzed from the neck down, so it was impossible for him to sit up, due to severed nerves--

Just then, Ted Toilet's eyes darted open! It had just been a dream about him sitting straight up. He was still paralyzed. Luckily his sexy breasty nurse, Daffodil Jones, was there to attend to him.
"I can wipe you up if you made any sleepy messes." she said, as she sat there wide awake, seated, in a big yellow nurse uniform, in the dark, eyes open, not blinking, teeth showing, hand-talons erecting, forehead horns growing--

Just then, Ted Toilet woke up in the morning! He was panting. He wasn't paralyzed, nor had he ever been, and his name wasn't Ted Toilet, it was Matt Bathroom. Another dream.
"Phew!" said Matt Bathroom, as he washed his morning face in the bathroom mirror, "I'm glad I don't have Ted Toilet's life." Then he chuckled with relief to himself and kept washing his face. Then he paused for a moment, with suspicion.
"Wait a second," he said looking at himself in the mirror, "I'm not about to, like, turn into Ted Toilet again or something am I?" he asked aloud as he turned his head toward the ceiling and to the rest of the room.

Didn't seem like he was going to become Ted Toilet. He walked to work at his boring work job.
"I'm not Ted Toilet!" he said to a man walking down the street.
"I didn't say you were." said the man.

"I'm Matt Bathroom!" said Matt to a lady walking down the street.
"Are you being a sexual pervert?" asked the lady.
"No!" said Matt Bathroom, "I'm being liberated."
"Oh well that's great then!" said the lady.

Months went by and Matt Bathroom did not wake up as Ted Toilet. Every day was a celebration that he did not have to live the life of confinement that his mental concoction Ted Toilet did.

He saw a man in a wheelchair rolling by him one time.
"Yesssss!!" he said to himself, because the wheelchair man reminded him of Ted Toilet and he was once again glad to not be Ted Toilet, the paraplegic bed-rider. The wheelchair man heard Matt when he said "Yessss!". Matt continued to live life to the fullest.

Matt enrolled in a playwriting class. He wrote a play about Ted Toilet's life. He insisted on casting himself because it was his vanity project. He reserved space to put it on in the cafeteria at work around Christmas time, when busy work was slow. A few coworkers participated in the production. He went through an arduous casting process to cast the role of Daffodil Jones. He settled on Pam Turner, a brown skinned, very attractive woman, who worked in the fax machine room. Pam's description was how he saw the part.
"Pam you're perfect. Perfect!" said Matt.
"Thank you, I've always had a slight interest in theatre, just as a hobby." said Pam.
"Let's rehearse the scene again where you threaten to wipe me." said Matt. Matt had written this scene quite explicitly and wanted to get it right.
"I think we have it down." said Pam.
"It's my art and my show, I'll say when we have it down!"
Matt began to get kind of grabby with Pam.
"Let me go." said Pam.
"I'm Matt Bathroom, don't you understand?! This is my art, this is my story!"
"I don't care anymore!"
"You're treating me like some kind of Ted Toilet!"
"Do you think you're somehow better than Ted Toilet?!" said Pam.
"Yes!" shouted Matt Bathroom, "I am better than him!"
"Find another Daffodil Jones, I quit."
"You can't quit! This is great writing." said Matt Bathroom, his ego ablaze. He had known it was great writing because his class teacher told him so.

Matt chased after Pam, down the stairs and into the street. She reached the opposing side of the sidewalk. As Matt attempted to catch up with her, he was struck by a bus and paralyzed.

Suddenly, he woke up in a bed! He'd had a dream!
"It was a dream!" he shouted.
Then he looked around him and saw he was in a hospital bed, his limbs in casts, his back in a brace, and his bare genitals exposed.
"Nurshh!" He couldn't pronounce his 'S'es very well because of the accident, "Nurshhh!!" he shouted.
The nearest nurshh approached. It was an older bald and skinny gray-haired nurse with a glass eye, named Perry.
"Yes, I see you're awake, what can I do for you?" said Perry the Nurshh.
"Tell me, ishh my name Ted Toilet or Matt Bathroom?"
"Sir, that answer is for you to decide..." said Perry.

Perry stared, smiling and giggling, until he smiled so hard that his cheek muscles contracted and his glass eye popped out.

Sweaty Donald Sees a Doc

Sweaty Donald kept having sweaty dreams where his teeth would fall out. He told people and a person said "That means you think you're losing control. Maybe you should see a specialist about it if it keeps happening."

Sweaty Donald decided that was what he needed to do. He went to his dentist, Dr. Pud Malphus DDS. Donald walked in on Pud with his finger in a lady's mouth.

"Pud! My teeth are falling out every night!" exclaimed Sweaty Donald, as he dribbled sweat. The sweatiness made him seem more nervous than he actually was. Even though he was generally a nervous guy.
"Oh, well you've come to the right guy! And please, call me Doctor." said the dentist.
"It happens in my head!"
"Your teeth are in your head, I know. Sit down, you've come to the right guy."
"It happens when I sleep!"
"Oh, you got to be careful you don't swallow 'em, but hey, you've come to the right guy!"
"They are always back when I wake up."
"Oh, I misunderstood, you've come to the wrong guy."
"Why so?"
"I deal with teeth in your head, not teeth in your thoughts. You got to go to a thought doctor."
"Oh, well are my teeth gonna fall out for real?"
"I doubt it, but hey I got to keep putting my finger in this lady's mouth Let's hang out soon."
"Hi." said the lady with Pud's finger in her mouth.

Sweaty Donald went to the thought doctor.
"Hi I'm Dr. Gun Swiggins, thought doctor." he said.
"Hi do I get to lay on your couch?" said Sweaty Donald.
"Yes, but next time I should bring a towel hehe." said Gun.
"You hurt my feelings for making fun of my sweat."
"Oh, I'm sorry, you know I specialize in feelings, so I shouldn't have done that."
"What does it mean that I lose my teeth in my sleep time thoughts?"
"It means you're losing control." said Dr. Gun.
"That's what everyone else told me."
"Great! Time's up, that will be money, please."
"You're good at this." said Sweaty Donald.

Next week Sweaty Donald went back to Dr. Gun Swiggins.
"I'm still having the teeth dreams."
"I bet it's cuz your mom," said Dr. Gun.
"Your mom!" said Donald, defensively.
 "You wish you could have sex with her since you were a little kid and because you can't you feel like you're losing control of everything." said Dr. Gun.
"You wish you could have sex with your mom!" said Donald.

That night Sweaty Donald went to his mom, Slushy Barbara's house.
"Hey Momma, a doctor said I wanted to have sex with you."
Just then, Sweaty Donald's dad, Dry Harry, burst in, "She's mine, punk, get one of your own!" he said.

"I tried to have sex with my mom and she and my dad wouldn't let me." said Donald to Dr. Gun.
"Hmm... want some drugs to make your brain stop working?"
"No drugs are bad."
"Yeah don't do 'em." said the doc.

That night Sweaty Donald was sitting there sweating. Then POP! He had idea.

Sweaty Donald went to the creaky tool shed and dug for a hammer. He found a real good one and knocked all his teeth out. He never had a dream about losing his teeth again, only dreams about having teeth, which weren't so bad to have, since he didn't have any teeth.

The Ominous Don and Nonthreatening Gary Dynamic

Ominous Don and Nonthreatening Gary were best pals. They'd go everywhere together. If someone tried to pick on Nonthreatening Gary. They'd get a look at Ominous Don and go "Hey never mind keep your hot dog." Because Gary would have a hot dog. And people would want to eat that hot dog.

One time they were at a hot dog place and Nonthreatening Gary went to the counter.
"May I have some ketchup?" he asked.
"It's way over there by the condiments." said the lady at the counter. Then Ominous Don popped up behind Gary and made eye contact with the counter lady.
"Or actually I could just give you all this ketchup in packets I have right here so you don't have to walk!" said the intimidated counter lady.

Don and Gary left with tons of ketchup. This dynamic was a real power they could wield.

Stiff Biff came a walkin' into the hot dog joint.
"I love my hot dog with packet ketchup, not the pump ketchup, could I get some ketchup packets?"
Stiff Biff was about the same height and build of Ominous Don. He was stiff so he was often mistaken for emotionless, which in turn made him seem ominous.
"Um, we're actually out of ketchup packets..." said the counter lady.
"You're out?" said Stiff Biff, in his deep stiff voice.
"Yeah, I gave the last of the packets to the ominous and nonthreatening gentlemen who just left."
Stiff Biff could tell the counter lady was real nervous. He wanted to disarm her fear.
"Don't worry." said Stiff Biff. The counter lady took an exhalation of relief.

Stiff Biff thought he and the counter lady had chemistry. He couldn't do anything about it because he was in a marriage, but the marriage was loveless, which contributed to his stiff emotionless nature, which in turn fueled the loveless quality, because Stiff Biff's wife required more emotion than Biff could give. Nevertheless, he felt a need to protect the counter lady in that moment. He also felt a need to get ketchup for his hot dog. Because he was in a marriage already, the hot dog took priority.
"I'll be right back." he said to the counter lady.

Stiff Biff beelined for the door. Down the block he saw Nonthreatening Gary and Ominous Don. He ran after them. They were pleased with their wealthy score of ketchup packets.
"Geez, wow I like all this ketchup." said Gary.
"Hey." said Stiff Biff.
Ominous Don spun around.
"Who goes there?" said Ominous Don.
"I'm Biff. I wanted some ketchup from you guys."
"Is that so?" said Don.
"Yes I prefer it from the packet, not the pump."
"Hey I recognize you." said Don.
"You look kind of familiar too." said Biff.
"Did you go to Happy Street High School?" asked Don.
"Yes I did."
"Me too, that's neat, I remember you."
"How neat," said Biff, with a pained but sincere smile, "could I have some ketchup?"
Don began to respond, "Shhu--"
Nonthreatening Gary leaned over and whispered into Don's ear.
"Oh, actually, we were going to eat it all." said Ominous Don, with a slight unconfident crack exposing his ominous facade.
"I see." said Stiff Biff.

Nonthreatening Gary had had the upper hand the whole time.  Biff stood there as they walked away getting smaller. Passersby caught glimpses of Biff's eyes, innocence shattered. He'd had enough. He knew he had to do what was right. The wife, the counter lady, the ketchup, now this? He had to break this prison.

"Wait!" Biff shouted with non-stiff emotion.
Stiff Biff ran back toward them. They turned around and watched him approach.
Nonthreatening Gary looked as nonthreatening as ever. Stiff Biff arrived at their feet, pulled his raised  elbow back shot his fist as hard into Nonthreatening Gary's face as possible. He hit Gary so hard Gary's hair fell out as Gary hit the ground.
"Gasp!" said Ominous Don with his mouth held open. Ominous Don was speechless for a moment. Then he spoke.
"Thank you!"
"You're welcome." said Stiff Biff.
Ominous Don looked at his hands and wrists as if he'd just been freed of shackles.
"I'm free!" he said.
"Go be free." said Stiff Biff.
Ominous Don floated into the sky toward the trees and waved goodbye to Biff.

Biff went and made love to his wife.

The Spice of Life Can Burn: A Cautionary Tale

Dull Daryl constantly needed spice in his life. He had weak senses. He had to turn up the volume on music. He could not listen to things with atmospheric dissonance. He needed loud rock. He needed extra pepper on his food. He needed movies with extreme emotional arcs and twists in the plot.

"Hey Dull Daryl, seems like you're a real wild one." said Assumption Nancy.
"No, Nancy you're wrong. I actually would prefer things be not so wild, but I just don't notice them otherwise."
"Oh I guess I should have gotten the whole story before I blurted out what I said just now." said Assumption Nancy.
"It actually didn't seem like much of a blurt. Believe me I know blurts." said Daryl.
"Seems like you're really misunderstood." said Nancy.

Nancy was always jumping to the first version of an idea she'd think of when she'd think of something. She saw two people sitting quietly next to each other once, "You're probably in a big fight, try making up!" she said.
"No we're meditating together and you just interrupted us." they responded.
"Oh that's the opposite." She said.

Nancy told that story to Dull Daryl.
"Geez I wish I could meditate. It's too dull."
"Why don't you? Because it's so boring probably."
"Yes that's exactly why." said Dull Daryl.
"You mean I was right?!" said Assumption Nancy.
"Yes." said Dull Daryl.

They were shocked for a moment, and looked into each others' eyes. Dull Daryl grabbed Assumption Nancy by the arms and started making out with her, which turned into passionate wild sex in a public place. Dull Daryl knew he couldn't just go on a regular date and get into a simple relationship with her. That would be too dull. Poor guy.

"Okay we got a call about a complaint about you two." said Officer Squally.
Daryl and Nancy kept going at it.
"You have to stop because this is indecent exposure," said Officer Squally, "guess I'll have to take you to jail."
Officer Squally took them both to jail. They got out on bail.

Daryl and Nancy wanted to see more of each other but Daryl needed things to be wild. So they decided to go on a crime spree and rob places. They accidentally killed a guy. It was really on purpose but they said they didn't want to do it. Daryl's excuse for everything was that he couldn't handle dull things. They indulged themselves too hard.

They were on the lamb for a while causing trouble in the nation and became media folk heroes who's legend was they rallied against dull things. The message got confused though because people didn't know if they should call him "Wild Daryl" or "Dull Daryl". It's like when people get confused about whether "non-fiction" is the one that means it's true or not true.

Dull Daryl wore himself out real hard with trying to make things not dull. He trying drinking every bodily fluid, he murdered a guy, he was a cutter, he put dirt on his pizza. He did drugs too. He lived it up too hard. Assumption Nancy did the same thing, she was always too quick to make judgements about situations without the proper information.

Well the law caught up with both of them. And they were relieved. Dull Daryl went to prison which was just what he needed. A strict and painful routine instead of complete chaos in his options. He was rehabilitated and began to love simplicity. Assumption Nancy had plenty of time in jail so she read books and learned to be patient. They both died in jail away from each other and then rotted in hell with tons of people just like them. Except when they went to hell they reverted back to their unreformed ways for some reason. That was a strange rule of hell that hadn't been disclosed in famous literature about the place.
"Hey this place hell is wild, I love it!" said Dull Daryl.
"Everyone here is probably evil, right? said Assumption Nancy.

A Rumor with a View

"I'm going to expose the cult!" said Sneaky Pete Tarkin of the Expose Times. He was a reporter. He went to a small town that was supposed to have a cult.

"Love yourself and one another!" said Saddles Bibbler, the preacher man of the tiny town purported to have a cult.

There were lots of pretty town daughters walking around.

Sneaky Pete blew into town. He walked into the corner store.
"Hi I'm Mabel!" said the nice lady working.
"Hey there, I'm Sneaky Pete..."
"Well, top of the day!" said Mabel.
"I'm lookin' for the scoop on the cult..." said Pete.
"Well golly, I don't know the scoop about any cult, but we could give you a scoop of ice cream." said Mabel with a smile.

"Well that sounds great, maybe later." said Pete.

Pete hopped and popped around. He dug around, hid in bushes. He went to the hardware store lookin' for info about the cult. A man with a hammer told him the place for prayer was the town church.

He attended the Sunday service. Saddles Bibbler, spoke with great kindness.
"...And remember to be nice!" said Saddles.
Everyone applauded.

After the service Sneaky Pete snuck over to chat with Saddles Bibbler.
"Say, Mr. Bibbler,"
"Why yes, my human brother,"
"Nice sermon."
"Why thank you."
"Everyone here seems nice."
"Meet my pretty young daughter Audrey Bibbler. And her young friend, Judith Miracles."
"Come with us for some post service snacks." the pretty young girls said to Pete.

They took his hands. Pete was excited because these young girls were pretty. The girls had soft hands. This was comforting to Pete.

They took Pete to a room where the congregation convened and socialized. Pete enjoyed a pig in a blanket. The other snacks were delicious too.

"Well I've got to tell you," said Pete to a local, "I don't see what's wrong with this town. In fact, my expose is going to be about how wonderful it is here.
"Well you are welcome any time." said the local.
"Yes, please consider yourself at a peaceful place here." chimed in Saddles Bibbler.
"In fact, if you think it'd be easier to write your article in a serene environment, feel free to stay in my departed wife's study." said Ted Roast, the local hammock maker.

Sneaky Pete thought that sounded wonderful. He stayed a little longer and wrote his expose. It came out the following Sunday, and he stayed through it's publication. When the story came out the town was very pleased. They thanked him and congratulated him on his fine writing. He felt very satisfied. He had pegged them all wrong and decided that rumors were a nasty thing to believe. He'd found a happy new home away from home.

The next morning he awoke in his guest room to find the two young girls, Audrey and Judith, standing before his bed. They were completely nude. Their young beautiful bodies took Sneaky Pete by surprise. The nice young girls lead him to the back yard where he was sacrificed and never heard from again.

The Mystery of 'Mystery'

Erik "Mystery" Glupsen was the krappiest magician maybe ever. He was Swedish. He would put on magic shows. They were awful. Boring. Slow. Everyone knew where his tricks were headed. He seemed to do every kind of magic trick poorly. Cards, mind reading, animal stuff, etc. He entertained possibly no one. He wasn't even entertainingly bad. Just bad.

"...And for me next treek, I'm going to figure out what card you thinking of!"
He'd declare in a vacant, rote voice. Then wouldn't figure it out.

"Watch me, I make this thing levitate!"
It wouldn't.

He was clumsy, his fingers ungraceful, he would forget how tricks were supposed to end, and he had  horrible stage presence.

"If you please give a hand for my lovely assistant." He would say, as his assistant came out and was not lovely.

People wondered if he was playing a boring prank. Morbid curiosity for how bad he was began to draw a crowd. Many people wanted to see Erik "Mystery" Glupsen. The attendance was encouraging, the reaction was not.
"That was real bad!"
"I usually like magic, but I didn't like yours."
"I don't like magic anyway, so I had no expectations."
"I saw every trick coming!"
"You didn't fool me once."
"Illusion? More like 'ill loser'!"
"Why do they call him 'Mystery'? Is it that there was no mystery, and the mystery is that you have to figure out why they call him 'Mystery'?"
"Do they like this stuff in Sweden?"

Erik began to make a living. He was sad that no one liked his magic. He was offered a run at a theater that didn't discriminate over content.
"I don't know why they show up, but I deal with butts in seats, not good times had." said the theater owner. The reviews poured in, "The Lousiest Show in Town!", "Mehh-gic!", "Bad Show Draws Full House", "Real 'Mystery' is Why People Show Up".

Erik's show ran for a long time and he capitalized on being the worst magician. He kept doing his shows. Then something horrible happened. He got better. He became so practiced and professional at doing his show that his tricks became tight, his stage presence improved, he knew where laughs were coming and how to achieve a few "oohs" and "aahs".
"Hey that wasn't so bad."
"You got me with that chicken trick."
"I don't really like magic anyway, so..."
"Not bad."
Erik went from being the worst magician to a polished okay magician. It did wonders for his ego, but damage to his attendance, which, in turn, did damage to his ego.
"Erik 'Mystery' Glupsen? He's not too bad." people would say.

The mystery about "Mystery" had been cracked. He tried practicing less to get worse, but he knew his tricks too well. He tried messing up his tricks, but it didn't matter. The word was out that he was decent at magic. He could draw wrong card after wrong card, but he could no longer draw the crowd. The theater canceled his show.

"Practice did not make perfect, it made better! And this time, better is worse than bad!" His failure brought him success and his improvement brought him failure.

Erik was out of luck and out of a job. He cursed any good advice he was given. He tried to recreate his success in other departments. He made bad sandwiches, no one wanted to eat them. He gave bad haircuts, no one wanted them. He drew bad portraits, no one looked at them.

One day he was walking down the street with his head down.
"Hey!" said a tiny little voice from the bushes.
"Who is there?"
Out jumped an impish sunburned looking man with black hair and BluBlocker sunglasses.
"How did you like our little deal?" the little man said.
"What deal?" said Erik.
"We made a deal, don't you remember?"
"No."
"We made a deal about you becoming a popular magician and me getting your soul."
"Hmm I'm certain I don't remember. Are you sure it's me?"
"Yes!"
"Well maybe you have got detail mixed up, because I truly positive if we ever meet I don't recall shaking hand on any eternal details in exchange for confusing perspective on success."

The impish fellow was Jerry Balkaraph, a demon of deception.

Jerry rewound time and reviewed the exchange. He confirmed Erik was right. They had met one night in a bar when Erik was just starting out. He had merely shared his magician aspirations. But no deceptive deal had ever been set.

Jerry Balkaraph felt really bad about mixing up the details. This was a major F up. He returned to the present.

"Shit." said Jerry, "I really screwed stuff up. I guess I don't get your soul or anything. I'm sorry about all the inconvenience, I'm bad with bureaucracy... Um, do you want to file a complaint?"
Jerry hung his head low.
"No." said Erik.
Jerry popped his eyes back up, "Do you want to make any kind of other deals?"
"Definitely not." said Erik.
"Okay I understand. Best of luck."

The impish demon fellow, Jerry Balkaraph, walked away feeling really stupid and discouraged. He was bad at his job and made mistakes like this which caused mass inexplicable confusion across humanity often.