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circumstances where his evil would be vanquished once and for all.
    "Whatcha gonna do, trap him under a net?" asks Rick from Corporate Accounting, playing with the bell. I really shouldn't leave it sitting out on my desk.
    "No," I say, trying not to let my impatience show. "I am not going to trap him under a net. His skin would burn right through it." How can he be so highly paid and yet so ignorant?
    "Gonna use your martial arts skills on him?"
    I sigh. "I don't have martial arts skills."
    "Really? I thought you were, like, a ninja or something."
    He's making my brain hurt. "I admire ninjas. I'm not one myself."
    "Bummer."
    "It's not a bummer. I have no interest in taking a human life."
    "But you're trying to kill Satan."
    "I never said I was trying to kill Satan. All I've said is that if I can figure out a way to trap him, I might summon him with the bell. That's a pretty big 'if.' I'm not trying to pass myself off as some mighty devil hunter — I'm just saying that if I figured out a workable plan, I might try to rid the world of him. Give me a frickin' break."
    Rick jiggles the bell. "It doesn't even really ring. It just sort of clacks around."
    "Well, gee, perhaps a fallen angel has better hearing than you do. Did you ever think of that?" His stupidity is beyond belief.
    "I've gotta tell you, Howie, I'm not quite buying the whole devil bell thing."
    I've never claimed to be perfect. Sometimes I suffer from the sin of pride. And on that day, I simply couldn't take the ridicule anymore. I snatched the bell out of Rick's hand and began to ring.
    I rang it ten times.
    Twenty.
    Thirty.
    Rick stood there, a smirk on his face. Oh, how I would enjoy seeing that smirk ripped off and boiled in bile by Lucifer himself.
    I continued to shake the bell, counting each tinkle. Forty-six, forty-seven, forty-eight . . .
    "I've gotta go," said Rick.
    "You're not going anywhere," I told him. "You don't believe me? I'll prove it to you, once and for all."
    Fifty-three, fifty-four, fifty-five . . .
    "How many rings does it take?"
    "Six hundred and sixty-six."
    "Is it cumulative?"
    "What do you mean?"
    "Do my rings count?"
    "No. One person in one session."
    "What are you up to?"
    "Ninety."
    Sarah, who sits three cubicles behind me, approaches with a cup of coffee. "What's going on?"
    "Howie's summoning Satan."
    Sarah smiles. "You figured out how to vanquish him?"
    I shake my head and keep ringing. "I'm just teaching Rick a lesson."
    "Pretty harsh lesson if Satan does show up."
    "I'm teaching all of you a lesson," I announce. "You never believed me. You all think I wasted my $1.50. Well, when I reach the six-hundred and sixty-sixth ring you'll find out just who wasted what."
    "How many rings is that now?" Rick asks.
    "One hundred and forty-one."
    "Can you call me when you're at six-hundred?"
    His condescending tone makes me want to watch his eternal torment even more. I ring harder and faster.
    In the back of my mind, I question the wisdom of summoning Satan without an escape plan, but I'm far too annoyed to worry about that. Whatever happens, happens.
    A crowd begins to gather. They all look amused. I can't wait to see the amusement on their faces transform into a distinct lack of amusement.
    I've sort of lost count of the number of rings at this point — I think I'm around three hundred — but the summoning doesn't require me to stop at exactly six-hundred and sixty-six rings, so if I go over I won't mess things up. I just need to keep track enough that I know when to duck and cover.
    "Shouldn't we make Satan a welcome banner or something?" asks Mike, who is also from Corporate Accounting. The others acknowledge that it's a good idea (though I doubt their sincerity) but nobody goes to make one. They won't have time, anyway.
    Patricia, who is also from Corporate Accounting, (their area is right next to mine) looks at me sadly. She's always been nice to me and I harbor a secret crush on her, despite her being thirty-two years my senior.