Wanted: Soul Exchange, one careful owner

God and the Devil came to an agreement. On an annual basis, they
would re-assess the occupants of both heaven and the underworld. Thus,
the soul exchange programme was underway. There was great unease in
heaven whilst in hell the inhabitants felt hope for the first time in
what seemed an eternity.
"This benefits us both," suggested the Devil, " A chance to tighten the
reins a bit in your kingdom and a chance for me&;#8230;
"Too have a little more fun?" God replied.
"An afterthought perhaps. You cannot deny that this plan has its
merits?" the Devil ventured.
"Indeed it does my child, there is certainly value. These things do
have a strange way of finding their way back to the living." God agreed
reluctantly.
"So it is agreed then?" the Devil tried to close the deal although
God's response was measured and thoughtful as always.
"On a trial basis, yes, on the condition that either party can call off
the deal at anytime, and, retrieve any soul at any time."
"Agreed." The Devil always took whatever he could from God, he knew he
would not argue a better deal.
"This better not work out like that John Belushi incident, it took us
weeks to clean up after that." God accusingly pointed and shook his
finger.
"Tell me about it, that guy is beyond even me." The Devil tried to shut
some images out of his mind.
"Where is he now? I hope you have him well chained to something
heavy?"
"I don't have him I thought you did?" replied the Devil.
"No the very epitome of a lost soul that one." God shook his
head.

God and the Devil met some days later to work out the details.
"So how will this work exactly? I have no lists of who you have down
there," said God pointing down, "and I would hope you do not possess a
list of the guests whom I keep up here," said God pointing
upward.
"Well it would seem in that case you are not prepared to swap
lists&;#8230;" The Devil pushed his luck.
"Basic data protection, as you know."
"Exactly, but look at it this way. You must be aware of all those folk
who don't pay their rent in heaven."
"I see. So in theory, what you are suggesting is that because Mr Josef
Stalin is not in heaven, in theory he must be in hell and could, in
theory, appear on a list I give to you as part of the proposed soul
exchange?"
"Exactly God, you have it in a nutshell." The Devil flattered.
"Well, let us start slowly. You will have my list a month from now,
there will be 100 names on it."

So work began. God assembled an army of researchers and administrators
whose job it was to scan the history books and modern biographies of
those God assumed must have ended up in the worst of all company. A
second team stood by waiting for the Devil's list. That would have to
be researched too.

The Devil in comparison had prepared no such teams. His list had, of
course, been compiled for some time in his own head and had some
wonderful names on it.

The day eventually arrived and the two met again.
"So are we just going to swap the lists, swap the souls and away we
go?" The Devil was in for the quick sale once more, as he passed his
list over to God who put it in his pocket.
"Unfortunately not my dear Lucifer. I need to take your list away and
verify that these poor souls are deserving of the fate that you so
willingly bestow upon them. You on the other hand can take my list
without my reservation. You will have my answer in one month."
The Devil sighed and agreed once more. Doing business with God had
always been an epic bureaucratic nightmare. It all started with that
big book.

The Devil took away God's list and sat down in his favourite living
dead armchair, which looked out over the River Styx, to read what God
had written. On the list were 30 blues musicians, who had at one time
sold their souls at various crossroads across the southern United
States, 20 tabloid journalists, 10 lawyers, 4 estate agents, 2
stockbrokers, a traffic warden, 3 South American dictators, 16 various
international sportsmen, 8 barmen and 6 world famous chefs. A
predictable list thought the Devil. He may be sad to see some of them
go, particularly some of the more gifted blues musicians and of course
his old drinking buddy General Pinochet, but the potential prize was
too great to say no.

The Devil's list was a far more intricate affair. The names were all
well known to God and since he had gone to the trouble of assembling
his team of researchers it surely would do no harm to at least run the
names through the paper mill. After a week, God's chief researcher
Gabriel came to God with his progress report.
"Good morning your Grace, I have a progress report regarding the Soul
Exchange programme."
"What's the news?"
"I'm not entirely sure what you'd hoped we would find your Eminence,
but it seems, and we are only half way through, that some individuals
would qualify automatically for the other place, your Magnificence."
The chief researcher bowed.
"Some? How many is some?" God seemed concerned.
"Well, when I put it another way some could be taken to mean all, your
Diviness." Gabriel grovelled lower.
"Who is on the list for my sake!" God's impatience grew and the low
rumble of thunder could be heard just outside Coventry.
"From the top we have: Joan of Arc, Henry VIII, Richard III, President
Kennedy, Robert Kennedy&;#8230;"
"Stop, stop, stop Gabriel. What has Joan of Arc ever done to justify
being strung up in hell for an eternity."
"Let me see, here we are, Joan of Arc, aka the Maid D'Orleans, killed
345 of her enemies at St-Pierre-le-Moutier, France, 1429, after they
had been taken prisoner." The researcher read matter of factly from a
large parchment, whilst God hung his head and blew hard. A small storm
was blown onto the West Indies.
"Whatever Joan did, she did in my name and because I told her to. She
heard the voices and acted accordingly, I cannot release her. Those
were primitive times."
"Your Amazingness, could I venture forth an issue?"
"Why not Gabriel? If you fail to raise it, we can be sure you know who
will." God succumbed.
"It's just that Joan seems to have crossed your first commandment,
'thou shalt not kill' roughly 345 times in the space of one 2 hour
battle."
"Point taken, what about the next one, Henry VIII, never mind him,
Richard III, all the moors I suppose. I'll not even ask about those
Kennedy boys." The researcher shook his head in sorrow back at
God.
"Your Holiness, a question perhaps?"
"Go on Gabriel"
"If all these people are so wicked, as our very own research shows, why
are they here in heaven to begin with?"
"Gabriel, come closer." God whispered and Gabriel complied, "You need a
draw, you need big names, or no one will show interest and come. How
dull would our Wednesday mornings be without our famous guest speakers?
Gabriel, I know how bad these people are and I know all the things they
have done, I was there when most of them did. The man downstairs is up
to his old tricks again. I'm stringing him along. It will all come to
nothing."
"But with the greatest respect your Magnificence, hasn't he got a
point?"
"Of course he has a point my dear Gabriel, he may even be right, but I
cannot be seen to be making deals with the Devil now can I?"
"Unless," Gabriel paused, "you made it look as if you were having a
clear out?"
"Stop this now Gabriel, we are not having a clear out and I am not
giving up my Monday poker night with Che Guevara."

The day of the exchange came and God met the Devil in their usual
place, a gentleman's club, in Chelsea.
"I have all my souls ready, I am glad to say." The Devil looked more
pleased than usual with himself.
"Excellent, where have you left them, pray tell?" God replied.
"All one hundred souls are on the number 19 bus currently circling this
block, step outside, step on the bus and take them away." The Devil
sipped his brandy.
"Thank you, and if you catch the number 7 bus outside this very club,
it will take you to Selhurst Park, where you will find all one hundred
watching Wimbledon play Queens Park Rangers this very afternoon. They
get very small crowds there, they'll be easy to spot."
The Devil looked at his watch, it was almost time for kick off, he knew
that much about football. He finished his drink, said his goodbyes to
God, and was gone. God casually lifted himself out of the large leather
armchair, paid his and the Devil's bar bill and stepped outside. As the
bus pulled up God could hear the sounds of those jazz musicians and he
smiled to himself as he turned to the driver.
"I think you know where we are going."

The Devil arrived at Selhurst Park to find the ground empty, except for
one solitary figure sat in the main stand. As he approached, the man
turned to face the Devil and took a large swig from a bottle of Jack
Daniels.
"Hey Lucifer my man, how's it going, you ready to party? I heard it was
all back to yours," John Belushi roared, "Hey that God is one wily cat
man, drink?" The Devil took the bottle and drank hard.