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suggesting that my stump wasn't sore, it was definitely a more pleasant feeling than being devoured. One arm was still one more arm than I would've had if that rotten little brat had gotten his way.
    After a few days of relaxation, the swelling went down, and I could smile again.
    * * *
    I'm wiser now. When you think about it, this whole thing was a learning experience. I'm no longer that innocent guy breaking pots. I'm not saying I wouldn't rather have my arm back, but all things considered, I think this was good for me.
    Again, people need to quit their bellyaching. The apocalypse ain't so bad.
     
     

THE BELL . . . FROM HELL!!!
     
    I own a bell forged by Satan himself. With it, I can summon the Prince of Darkness to our plane of existence. I often think about doing it, but I fear my own power.
    Some question the authenticity of the bell. "No way did Satan make that," they say. "If Satan made a bell, it would be, like, some big scary-looking thing made out of black iron with pentagrams carved into it and, I dunno, boiling blood dripping down the side and stuff. That's just a stupid little plastic bell. It still has the price tag on it."
    Of them I ask, "Why would you assume that Lucifer is proficient in bell-making skills?" William Shakespeare may have been the most brilliant writer in human history, but did he know how to successfully milk a cow? Doubtful. Everybody has his or her own skill set. I don't see why Satan's bell must be an unholy spectacle to convince people of its origin. It was his first attempt. It's not going to be the Liberty Bell.
    The price tag I can't explain. Some phenomena are beyond the understanding of mortal man, and should remain that way.
    Sometimes my co-workers snatch the bell from my desk and ring it, just to tease and infuriate me. Wretched souls. "Uh-oh!" they say. "The devil's gonna be here any second! Everybody look busy!" I explain that the bell must be rung six hundred and sixty-six times for the summoning to take place. Fortunately, my co-workers do not have the patience for that much ringing.
    No, I did not get the bell from Satan directly. It's ridiculous to think that I would have. I'm not so caught up in feelings of self-worth and ego to think that Satan would feel the need to deliver his gift to me personally, any more than the President of the United States has to hand-deliver a certificate of commendation for it to be a thoughtful gesture. One of his minions presented me with the bell three months ago.
    This is where my frustration with my co-workers becomes almost unbearable. Yes, Satan's minion took human form. Because of this fact, my co-workers constantly insist that it was not a demon at all, but rather a homeless man selling junk he'd stolen from the Dollar Store. Logic eludes them. Why do they think that Satan would be stupid enough to send a red-skinned, scaly, sulfur-scented, prehensile-tail-wearing demon to wander the brightly lit streets? Of course the demon would have transformed itself into something passable as human. They simply don't understand this line of reasoning.
    Oh, I guess I should point out that I'm not a devil worshipper. I can see where you might get the wrong idea. I'm actually a reasonably devout Christian, which is why it surprised me more than anybody when the minion sold me the bell for such a low price. I would've expected him to choose somebody who practices the dark arts, or listens to evil music, or at least reads Harry Potter . But, no, I was chosen.
    I don't want to see Hell on earth or a thousand years of darkness or anything like that. If I do end up summoning Satan, it'll be to defeat him.
    My co-workers have a great big laugh at that. I'm fully aware of how it sounds, but I wish they'd give me credit for not being a complete idiot. I'm not saying that I'm going to whip out my +3 vorpal sword and lop off Beelzebub's head for eight thousand experience points; I'm just saying that if I did use the bell, I could conceivably summon him under