Overheard at the HMV

"I haven't seen you buy a CD in three weeks. What happened? You finally ran out of money?"

'No. I'm actually saving again.'

"Ah. You've acquired self discipline. Good stuff, that."

'Not quite. I've got them all.'

"Oh? I thought you were trying to be eclectic. I distinctly recall your list of stuff to get being in the three page slash twenty-three hundred buck range."

'I can be even more eclectic now. I've got one of every CD ever released, updated as new disks are issued.'

Eyebrows raised: "How'd you manage that?"

'I sold my soul.'

"Ah. To a short guy? Wears red tights with a horn-rimmed hair-piece? Uses unusually large cutlery?"

Grin. 'I thought it was a joke too. That place up Queen St., The Soul Exchange, did the deal. I just signed the contract and now I can get any CD courier'd to me in under an hour, just by phoning in my request. It's even got an eight-hundred number. I've already got everything on my list.'

"Sheesh! Faust got wisdom and power. You got CDs. I wonder if you're getting ripped off here."

'Nah. After all, I'm getting something for nothing.'

"Oh?"

'I sold something that's entirely a myth for something worth millions. I'd say that's a good deal.'

Pause. "Well, at least you're true to your beliefs."


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