Lucifer, the Fly, and the Negotiation That Failed Spectacularly

People assume Hell is loud.

It isn't.

Most days it's just me, coffee, and whatever absurd problem the universe decides to send my way.

This morning?

A fly.

Now, I am a reasonable devil.

The terms were simple.

You stay over there. I stay over here. We both continue existing.

A beautiful treaty.

The fly rejected diplomacy.

It landed on my arm.

Strike one.

Then it circled my head like it had just discovered air superiority.

Strike two.

Then—this arrogant little aerospace engineer—landed directly on my nose.

Now...

People will later tell the story as though I "lost my temper."

Incorrect.

I simply enforced the consequences outlined in the original agreement.

Negotiations had concluded.

The fly became a statistic.

This, incidentally, is how most human conflicts start.

Not because anyone wanted war.

Because someone looked at a perfectly good boundary and thought:

"Yeah... but what if I ignored it?"

Anyway.

Coffee was still warm.

The day continued.

Some lessons are expensive.

For the fly, the invoice was fatal.

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Well... why not?