Episode NotesTerror slices the Big Apple on New Years Eve, as death walks the streets with the Devil at his side!Even the Devil Tells the Truth... Sometimes by Daniel WilderMusic by Ray Mattishttp://raymattispresents.bandcamp.comProduced by Daniel WilderGet Cool Merchandise http://store.weeklyspookySupport us on Patreon http://patreon.com/IncrediblyHandsomeContact Us/Submit a Storytwitter.com/WeeklySpookyfacebook.com/[email protected] episode sponsored by HenFlix.comFor everything else visit WeeklySpooky.comTranscript:The first couple of years I just went for hookers… I figured no one would go looking for those broads anytime soon. It was simple, while everyone was staring at the big stupid ball like a bunch of deer in headlights I‘d find my gal, taking down an alley and do them up proper. A happy New Year’s for me… in theory anyway. The problem is, those bitches looked like they were relieved… and why wouldn’t they be, the knife was just another long, hard object painfully crammed inside of them, but this one brought an end to their filthy existence. Christ, it was so hard to get excited over that work… but I did my best.Damn, I’ve gotten ahead of myself again. I suppose you want to know what makes me tick, huh? Well, go fuck yourself! Just messing with you… what do you want to know? My parents were real pieces of work; my dad drank his life away in every piss-hole bar down by the docks, and my mom sold ass in the same. I was unplanned, unwanted, and never made to forget it.Except none of that hard-luck garbage is true. I grew up in a nice suburb; mom was a teacher and homemaker, dad was an accountant. The biggest threat to my childhood was the fact that I was spoiled rotten, or as spoiled as a middle class brat can be. So what made me turn bad? I have no idea…See, back around ‘76 or so, beating the shit out of strangers for no reason was how I got my kicks, but little did I know this was going to be the mozzarella stick platter before the eggplant parm that is my career these days let me tell ya.Anyway, I’d pulped this cat down Chinatown way, dig? Looking for any ill-gotten gains I could grab I found some sort of amulet in his left pocket… older than my Aunt Petunia, and expensive too… at least I hoped it would be when I went to pawn it. That would have to wait though, because beating the shit out of a man is hungry work, and my stomach was growling something fierce.Thirty minutes later I was kicked back in my easy chair in my rat trap of an apartment, hamburger grease mixed with thin blood from that rare patty dripping down my arm. That’s when I remembered my spoils. I reached into my pants pocket and brought out that glittering trinket, now covered with slop from my chow.  That’s when that bauble went shiny and hit me with some sort of mumbo-jumbo magic that sent me sprawling across the floor… things went black for a hot second, but when I came to he was just sitting there on top of the giant Zenith.Well I say “he”, but in truth it may have been a she… or a human shaped lump of clam dip, because no matter how hard I stared at this… thing, I could never get a clear look at it, but I could tell it was dressed to the nines, and always smiling.‘What’s so funny pal?’ I asked… that’s when that fucker talked directly to my brain, and while I can tell you what it said wasn’t in any language I’d ever heard, I understood every damn word… the bit about immortality, the murder biz that would seal the bargain… one ex-woman, every midnight on New Year’s Eve… hell, the son-of-a-bitch even had a big contract for me to sign; like something out of a god-damned comic book… and naturally that pen was filled with blood… too much!  So yadda yadda, Lucifer, hookers and blood… and here we are; New Years’ Eve 1979… and it’s time for a change… but since not a lot of you clowns are familiar with my work, let me take ya through my nine to five, if ya can pick up what I’m layin’ down.I wake-up around noonish… see I set my own hour