The devil’s doormat choice was concerning, but even more troubling was the smile on his face.

“I got it from the local Hot Topic,” he beams at me, sitting down to trace the cursive Live, Laugh, Die on the doormat. Skulls and butterflies float around the words. “You know, it’s shocking, but sometimes humans actually make quality things. They really aren’t complete morons.”

I scoff and his cheeks turn redder than his horns.

“Present company excluded, of course,” he hurriedly rushes out. “Wouldn’t want to disrespect your phenomenal leadership.”

If anyone was a moron, it’d be this damn devil cradling this doormat like it’s a demon baby. I’m disappointed in him, but only slightly. What he lacks in common sense, he more than makes up for in brutality.

“Let’s get to business,” I pull out the latest stack of documents and the devil’s eyes gleam. “There are 67 new recruits arriving by next Tuesday. As always, it’s essential you follow the script. No more of this ‘Live, Laugh, Die’ funny business. You’re supposed to be a professional in the torture field, after all.”

His shoulders droop. “Oh, come on. Would you deny a comedian his favorite joke?”

“Without a doubt,” I look at the doormat again and shudder. “Without a doubt.”

He sighs. “Fine, fine. I guess I’ll have to be boring. So what’s the new batch like?”

“You’ll figure it out if you read the files,” I drop the stack on the doormat and the devil flinches. I swear to Satan, this doormat is like his lover. “And do read them this time. If I hear another incident of some pyromaniac catching on fire, I won’t be pleased.”

“You got it, sir,” he stands up, stumbles a little bit, and then grins. “They’ll be feeling like hell in no time.”