Here's my counter to the OP:
An Offer You Can't Refuse.
I was making a delivery stop in a small office park, when I noticed that to get backed into where I could get unloaded, I would need to swing the truck wide and left, then hook it back into the loading area. Problem was, someone had parked their car right where I needed to pull in. This was going to make things tough.
I asked around, located where I could find the owner, and walked across the street to another office building, one with white marble on the front, but lacking a name to indicate which business I was dealing with. I walked in, and mentioned to the receptionist I needed to see someone about moving a car.
There was a man standing behind her, who simply said, “Yes, we’ve been expecting you.”
“If you were expecting me, why didn’t you move the car in the first place?”
“Go up the stairs and down the hall to the office at the end.”
I shrugged, and headed up the stairs and down the hall, passing motivational posters that declared the advantages to be found in what the rest of us would call “Evil.” It was an odd place.
I got to the end of the hall, and was facing a dark heavy wooden door that read, “LUCIFER MEPHISTOPHELES, CEO.” I knocked, heard a pleasant “Come in,” and entered.
He was dressed in a dark blue suit, Italian, unless I missed my guess, and the room, while sparsely furnished for its size, was elegant, and quiet. He sat behind a dark mahogany desk, and was seated in a black leather chair. His dark hair was styled elegantly, and for the most part, he looked more like Tom Cruise than the Prince of Darkness.
“Welcome, welcome,” he said, extending a hand, which I ignored. “I have been expecting you.”
“If you were expecting me, why didn’t you park in a better spot?”
“Ah, but I had to get your attention.”
“You did. Now, about your car…”
“You are known, if I’m not mistaken, as ‘Roadtoad’?”
That stopped me for a moment. “Well, yes, but what does that have to do with the price of doughnuts in Modesto?”
Mr. Mephistopheles stood up, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. “I am prepared to make you an offer, sir, which I think you’ll find quite interesting.”
“Do tell.”
“I am willing to offer you unlimited wealth, power, and prestige. Whatever it is that you want, it shall be yours. Whatever you ask, it shall be. All that I request from you is your eternal soul.”
“I’ll pass.”
He paused, staring at me as though I were some sort of nut. “Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear.”
“No, you made yourself perfectly clear. I’m simply not interested.”
For a moment, he stood staring at me. “You do realize, don’t you, that by denying me, I can make your life a living hell?”
“Given where I worked in the past, and the fact I’ve been divorced. Been there, done that.”
He nodded. “Oh, yes, of course,” he sighed, “I should have realized.”
“Now, about the car…”
“I can offer you any kind you want.”
“Got a couple of them. Insurance is killing me as it is.”
“Ummm, yes. Perhaps you’d appreciate more money…”
“Ditto the income tax…”
“Right. Perhaps the possibilities of your heart’s desire…”
“How do you think I wound up divorced? Look, all this is interesting, but the reality is that I don’t have time for this kind of nonsense. I know what kind of a person I am, and what happens when I find myself getting my way any and all of the time. Sometimes, what I want is simply not good for me, and sometimes, it’s not good for the people I love and respect. I’m better off with only having that which I have earned.
“Power? My judgment hasn’t always been the best. I’d rather have Authority, where someone else can double check what I’m doing, and tell whether I’m getting it right, or perhaps tell me a better way to do it.”
“I can offer you that.”
“Can you deliver? I worked for a particular trucking firm that was big on promises, but short on follow-through. Thanks, but no thanks. To be honest, your track record sucks, Dude.”
“Do you have any idea who I am?” Mephistopheles asked.
“Sure. If the Bible is true, in the end, you’ll be stewing in your own juices for eternity in a lake of fire. Frankly, if I were to follow someone who’d be roasting alive forever in flaming liquid, I’d be a first rate boob, because if the head honcho were being cooked like that, it seems to me someone like me would be getting far worse.
“If the Bible isn’t true, you’re a first rate psychopath who’s convinced himself he’s the physical embodiment of human moral stupidity, which tells me you’re headed for a room with mattress wallpaper in the laughing academy, and your next fashion accessory will include sleeves that tie up in the back.
“In either case, what you’re offering me isn’t worth much. I can read the morning paper in any major city, and come face to face with evidence of just how worthless your offer is. I mean, Michael Milken may have money, power, and prestige, but the folks who invested their money with Drexel Burnham are still short on pocket change, and a hell of a lot more. Same thing goes for creeps like Ken Lay, Ivan Boesky, Bernie Ebbers… I mean, really, who needs that kind of baggage in their life? I already have enough.”
“So, you don’t want all the money you could ever want?”
“I’m still trying to manage what I have.”
“Power beyond your wildest imagination?”
“A 550 Cat and a RoadRanger 18 speed would be enough.”
“Your name on the lips of millions of women around the world…?”
“Over twenty years of marriage, and I’m happy with the one I’ve got.”
“Well, what do you want?”
“Some genius parked his Bentley in what’s clearly marked as a ‘No Parking’ zone. It needs to be moved, because my insurance won’t cover the body modifications a Class 8 rig will do to a car that’s parked where it shouldn’t be.”
Lucifer stiffened slightly. “You’re not impressed with me, are you?”
“Is that your Bentley?”
“Errr… Yes.”
“No.”
Lucifer nodded. “Would you be impressed if I told you I just saved a bunch of money by switching to Geico?”
