The Call...

An old-fashioned telephone sits within an older-fashioned summoning pentacle. The ring goes through, the call is picked up.

"Your wish to receive this call has been granted. How may I be of service?" said a voice that sounded neither female nor male, but eager to help regardless.

"I'd like to talk to the Devil, please."

"She isn't in at the moment. In Her Majesty's absence, I am more than qualified to help. What would you like to know, Human?"

A momentary hesitation. "I would like to know...if I will ever be useful in this life."

A fleeting pause. "Everything a human does has purpose. From someone washing a plate in the kitchen to another getting their photograph taken for a magazine. The energies created from both instances become part of the grander weave. The parts maketh the whole."

"How can I know this to be true, for a fact?"

"Greater Humans than you have hunted for that answer and found only madness. I strongly advise against pursuing this line of thought. What's that thing you people often say, 'it's the little things that matter.'"

"Well, thank you for being of so little help."

A demonic sigh. "Thank you for dialing Hell's Helpline. We hope we have been of service to you this full-moon. No rating required, we know we're the best." the person expected the line to disconnect, but then, a secret share, "And human…? You are like a cat on the wall, and on your last life. Let's hope you land on your feet, and on the side you desire."

"What if I don't?"

"The little things, Human. Remember the little things."

"Thanks...I guess..."

Another sigh. "with this call, You have used up your Hell-Wish, Human from Earth-T6. Please do not summon this number again lest you incur serious galactic fines. Trust me when I say, Her Majesty always collects."

The line went silent. One might even say, the connection died.