“I won’t give you another season,” the devil said, “That’s it. You have to stop, and you have to start aging. People are getting suspicious. If you’re going to do this thing, you’re doing it on your own.”
“What people? Who? Who’s suspicious?”
“The whole world. Look, our contract was up when you won your fifth Superbowl. Five freaking rings and then you whined and begged and renegotiated and I agreed because you’ve been good for me. Two more rings. But it’s all getting a little boring.”
Tom whined, “But… what’ll I do? Where will I go? What will become of me?”
“You do like everyone else I’ve helped. You find something else to do. Look at George W - he took up painting. Loves it, from what I hear. He’s content. Be like Bush. You’ve got to stop bugging me. You’re starting to piss me off.
“Colin pissed me off and look what happened to him? You don’t want to piss me off, you are starting to wear on my patience.
“You want another example - Trump. A person so vile and detestable that even I, the Prince of Darkness, couldn’t stand him for another minute. Look at him now, reliving his glory days by holding rallies for drunk people with absolutely nothing else to do, nothing in their lives. Have you seen his losers? Those are the only people in the world that love him. Not even his family can stand to be near him until it’s time to ask for grifting advice. I tried to kill him using his plane, sadly he survived.
“You do not want to incur my wrath, Thomas. I’m not helping you. If you’re going to do this, you are doing it on your own this time. I’m busy with this COVID thing and I have an interest in the Ukraine war. Not to mention the Kardashians - that family is a full time job.
“I’m getting too old for this shit.”