"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.'
'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."