If you don't shave for three days and then rub your face vigorously under a full moon, the Devil will appear somewhere close, so they say. I had this in mind on an unshaven day last September when a car ploughed into my Dad as he walked alongside me on the way home from the pub. The driver stopped, which was courteous, and he looked down at my Dad. "He looks a bit fucked then," he said, and really I had to agree. And then -- out of pure weirdness, and I really can't explain this -- we decided to walk around on him as he lay there.
So me and this guy who might have been the Devil did some of this evil treading until after a couple of minutes my Dad awoke with a few broken bones and said "Oi, what are you doing walking around on me like that? I will jump up and kill you if you do it any more." And we looked at him lying there broken, and a star crawled out from my heart and leapt into the night sky. "Fuck," said the Devil, "you guys are pure monsters." "Yes," said I, "but some things are even better than chocolate." And with that we parted, never again to meet.
He's got cold now, my Dad, and thin and dried up, and most cars barely even notice when they drive over him.