It was Joe's turn to grin. He did so crookedly. "Won't work," he said.

"I'm not
suggestible. Can't be hypnotized, in other words. Sorry to disappoint you."
"I'm not disappointed," said the Devil. "Very interested! You are rather unusual."
"So, what now with the possession business?"
The Devil shrugged. "I'll have to resort to an old stand-by."
"And what's that?"
"Force. Tried and true, my most effective method. All through the ages I've used
force. Great conquerors have done my work merely by force of arms. More lately
I've preferred intrigue, cold war stuff, you know, but since you are from the old
school, I'll just have to overpower you."
The Devil advanced slowly, flexing his hairy arms and going into a crouch, almost
ludicrously reminiscent of a boxer's stance.
Deliberately Joe leveled his gun and pulled the trigger. The blast was deafening in
the close confines of the basement, but the Devil didn't waver. He grinned his
horrible grin once more and pointed to a flattened piece of lead on the floor. "Neat
trick, don't you think?" he asked. "If I were vulnerable to bullets, I'd have been
holed rather frequently. Even silver bullets, silly superstition, are of no avail. Put
up your dukes, my friend. I'm going to slap you silly."

The door at the head of the stairs opened, and Pearl's voice rang through the
basement. "Joe! Joe