The Devil

In the back seat of a large luxury sedan, seated behind the driver. I stared straight over the driver's shoulder looking out through a crystal clear windshield.
The sun was bright and hot. Driving the sedan was our old friend. Blood red skin under an expensive black suit. And yes, our old friend has horns. Short, black ones, about as long as a large finger. Sharp and hard you have to look at them when you're with him.
I must have said something he didn't like. I have always been good at doing that.
The car came to a stop. His eyes staring through me in the rearview mirror.
"Get the Fuck Out!" Our old red freind tells me.
I get out. After all I'm not far from home.
His glaring solid black eyes meet mine again in an even more contemptible gaze. Only his eyes are visible over his slightly lowered tinted window.
"I'm gonna get you Motha Fucka" He says as the sedan slowly pulls away.