“What’s up with that guy?” I asked under my breath, watching the twitchy little man slink down the hallway. He disappeared behind his door to the sound of a dozen locks turning.
“That guy,” said the janitor as he got on the elevator with me, “is Hollis J. Finkleton, the richest man in the world.”
This made me laugh. “Really? What’s he doing living in my building?”
“Oh, I know all the gossip,” the janitor winked. “Get this – the story goes that Mr. Finkleton once beat the Devil at his own game.
No, I swear! He pulled a fast one before ol’ Nick could pull any dirty tricks on him. So he won their bet, and bickety-bam, he’s richer than rich.”
“Right. So where’s his mansion? And the limos full of sex?”
The janitor snorted. “Y’ever considered what it’d be like to hand the Devil his own hat?”
“I'd feel pretty damn good, I think.”
"Sure! At first. Then it might make you a bit worried. A bit paranoid. Somewhat *non compos mentis,* if you catch my Italic. You might not trust a single soul from then on.
After all… it’s not the kind of thing I can just let slide.”
The doors opened again, and I hurried off the suddenly empty elevator.