I am an 'adult.' I know it's kind of cliche, but it's still true that adulting is hard. I have been working, which is more than some of my friends can say. Of course, they will only give me thirty hours a week. It's not really enough to survive on, and as if that wasn't enough I don't get insurance because I am not full-time. I have been stuck in this limbo for years now. I don't have enough to do more than get by. Heck, I still live in my parent's house though I am too old to be on their insurance. They are still working because they are too young for Medicaid. 

I make enough money to not qualify for medicare, and lately, I haven't been feeling so great. Damned if I do, damned if I don't. 

Huh. Damned.

I am damned.

I am already damned. 

I admit it. I was a D&D kid, and I am still a D&D adult. I get the concept of demons and why it's a bad idea to summon one. I also get the feeling of having nothing to lose. I have nothing left to lose. I am a burden to my parents and I can barely afford my car and insurance while I'm working as much as I can. I will never have a life this way, and I see no way out in this economy. 

Let's see what I can get for my soul. 

I wait until my parents head out for their bingo night, then I go out into the garage and begin to draw with salt. I draw the symbol that I have heard described and seen for years in various books and games, then I prick my finger and drip some blood at my feet.

"I am willing to offer up my soul in exchange for a healthy life, power, and wealth!" I announce. Then I wait. I feel incredibly silly. What do I have to lose though? I say it again, and once again and then I wait.

Finally, something beings to appear. As it materializes it looks like...well...like a lawyer. It looks like a pretty ordinary man, slightly balding and trying to hide it, with tiny horns, no wings. It's wearing a suit with the tie loosened a bit. It's carrying a yellow legal pad and a pen. It doesn't even look up at me.

"Name?"

"Uh, Beth Daniels"

With an irritated look, it says, "Is that your full legal name?"

"Oh. Uh, Bethany Lee Daniels."

"Birthday?"

"February 17." He continues to ask me the same sorts of questions I have been answering when applying for government benefits.

"You understand that in exchange for your immortal soul we will provide for your physical well-being, and for enough money and power to live a comfortable life, as defined by the Mortal Lifestyle Department as "middle class?" 

"Um, can you tell me that definition?"

With a deep sigh, it says, "Middle class is defined as being able to afford a three-bedroom, two-bath house, 2.5 children, one pet of your choice, a spouse if they work, and two cars. You will be able to mostly pay for college for your children if you make wise financial choices, but there will be some debt involved."

"What about health care?"

"I said we would provide for physical well-being on a middle-class level. That means you will have appropriate health care but 'extras' will come out of your own savings. No botox or lipo is covered."

"Uh, okay, that sounds fair."

"Do you agree to this contract?" he said, looking again at his legal pad and making notes.

"How long will I live?

"What?"

"I am assuming that immortality is out of the question since then you wouldn't get my mortal soul, right? So how long?"

"That will be up to you and your life choices. If you make smart decisions you can expect a wonderful, healthy 80 or so years."

"What then?"

"Then you will be doing this job and I'll get to move to a non-customer facing department," it said with a wistful sigh.

"Okay. I've done more for less. Where do I sign?"