I sat at the local greasy spoon with the Devil, eating omelets and watching the rain. The Devil chose the taco omelet, whereas I, not being a flesh-eater, chose the vegetarian. The two of us sat in comfortable silence for a long time, until finally I brought up the subject of television game shows.

"Did you see Price is Right yesterday?" I asked, taking a sip of coffee to punctuate my question. I've found that such physical punctuations help to create a friendly, casual atmosphere between mortals and demons. "This sailor spun the wheel and landed right on the dollar. Then, when he got the extra spin, he landed right on the dollar again. I thought he was going to have a seizure."

"No, I didn't see that," the Devil said, wiping the grease from his Van Dyke beard with a paper napkin. "I stopped watching Price is Right after that scandal between Bob and his Beauties."

"I thought that was all a hoax," I said, tearing the crust from a slice of muffin toast, folding it in thirds, and popping it in my mouth. "At least that's what Bob said on Letterman."

"Well, even if it was a hoax--which I don't believe for a second--what bothered me was the way Bob let his hair turn gray." He paused poignantly, resting his fork on the edge of his plate and leaning forward. "As if a gray-haired man is any more innocent than a black-haired man. An insult to intelligence!"

"So what game shows do you watch now?" I asked, dumping pepper on my omelet with a vehemence unmatched in our lifetime.

"Well, sometimes I catch Jeopardy," the Devil said, peeling back the edge of his omelet to inspect and inventory the ingredients inside. "And I watch Wheel of Fortune pretty regularly. But what I really enjoy is my complete video library of Press Your Luck."

"I remember that show," I said, brushing crumbs from the front of my shirt with a mule-hair brush that I carry around specifically for that purpose. "That's the one with the Whammies. It aired back in the 1980s. I loved that show."

"Well, if you want, you can come over Friday night and we can watch a few episodes," he said, pretending to be spreading wild berry jelly on toast while actually sharpening a hunting knife and staring hungrily at an old lady�s Reagen-neck.

"Sounds great," I said, removing my clothing, getting down on all fours, and rubbing up against the table like a cat. "I'll bring a twelve pack of Mickey's Big Mouths."

"It's a date then," said the Devil, plunging his weapon into the old lady's windpipe. "Maybe we can even order some Chinese."

"My all-time favorite was Family Feud, back when Richard Dawson was the host," said the old lady, spraying blood from her neck and collapsing on the floor.

"What I wonder about," said the cook, zipping on a rubber jumpsuit and breaking out into a rash, "is whether these game show hosts ever fear for their lives. I saw Richard Dawson picked up and tossed around by one boisterous family."

"What about the time on The Price is Right when that woman was jumping up and down and she lost her tube top?" said the waitress, transforming herself into a red-winged blackbird and pecking sesame seeds from the top of a bran muffin. "Now that was funny."

"I'll never forget the time on The Newlywed Game," said the Devil, chopping up a potato sausage, rolling it in cash register tape, and smoking it, "when Bob Eubanks asked this woman 'Where is the strangest place you've ever made whoopie?' and she replied, 'In the ass.'"

"Well, I've got to go," I said, cutting two deep slashes in my back, pulling my lungs through the holes, and flapping them like wings. "It's already eleven o'clock, and I'm afraid the fish in my aquarium are starving."

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