Christopher Brett Bailey

He was dressing low-profile, but it was definitely him: red skin, horns, barbed tail, cloven hoofs, black goatee. He was unmistakable. Satan was buying soy milk and forty bucks' worth of unleaded fuel. In a small town two miles north of Hell, our deadbeat narrator spots Satan filling up his red Corvette at the 7-Eleven. Satan's a washed-up has-been who's...