The Conspiracy Theorist & The Devil

Below you will find the results of my having challenged myself for a number of days to write a short story with a beginning and middle and an end inside of 30 minutes. Here is what I came up with. I hope you like it.

The Devil looked exactly like one would imagine: red satin jumpsuit with forked tail attached, plastic pitchfork, shiny horns and a black mustache that had more in common with a 1970s major league baseball manager’s than anything sported by Fu Manchu or Snidely Whiplash.

“So, we got a deal or what?” asked The Devil in a midwestern accent that sounded featureless and uninviting as cold concrete.

“Yep,” acknowledged Fritz, “I give you my eternal soul in exchange for the secret knowledge.”


The Devil seemed distracted by the fluorescent lights in the bookstore.

The two of them shook on the bargain. Fritz didn’t feel any different, afterwards. He found that troubling. Still…

“OK,” Fritz inhaled. “My question is this: who really shot President John F Kennedy?”

The Devil shrugged and his devil suit made a crinkling sound.

“Lee Harvey Oswald,” he answered, without hesitation.

The both of them were quiet for a bit.

“Aw, nuts!” shouted Fritz!

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