"Don't you mean to say 'will kill you'?" Asked the man as he struck a match and puffed his cigerette.
"No. Could is exactly what I mean. How can anyone say will if you get killed by a bus? Then it wouldn't be the cigerettes would it?" The Devil studied his guest for another few seconds. He already knew cancer would not be the demise of the man.
The man took another puff and set the cancerstick in the surprisingly clean ashtray along with a still burning match. The Devil leaned ever so slightly forward to catch a whiff of home in the scent of burnt sulphur.
"Ok you called me and asked for this meeting, it's your dime. Mind if I have a look at that menu?" The greasy man asked as he reached for the menu. The devil bowed his head and pushed folder forward.
"By all means do."
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