The Advocate

“So, why should I agree to this?” I'd actually expected something more profound when I opened my mouth, but then again, it wasn't every day you spoke face to face with Old Scratch, himself. Short, grossly overweight, filthy and clad only in spandex briefs, his current appearance wasn't exactly inspiring confidence.

“Okay, look. I can see this version of me isn't the one you would have chosen for this visit. All those other personas are 'in my closet,' so to speak. The thing is, when I want to work really closely with someone, I want them to see the real me. Moobs and all. I coined that term, by the way, just so you know.”

“I can appreciate that – I think. Still, what's in this for me? I'm already a writer.”

“And a very influential one, which is why I chose you. Your work is persuasive, and that's exactly what my advocate needs. I'm going to multiply that persuasiveness a thousand times. People will do what you suggest. How about we give you a 7-figure salary and a 20-hour work week? And a guarantee that you won't serve time with me in the afterlife? Oh, and you don't need a suit, or wings or any of that, because you can work remotely – wherever you want. You'll get emails from my staff with outlines for every project and instructions on posting them. Just meet the deadlines!

And of course, you'll need a pseudonym. How about a good “superhero” name? Let's borrow one from the old church: “Advocatus!”

I always did like Latin. What's a starving writer to do?

“Where do I sign?”

***

Another entry for the Epic Beginnings Challenge:

Thanks for reading this weird little tale! Comments and feedback are always appreciated.