The artist woke up fully, he believed, as daylight worked it’s way around his curtains and black out blind. He felt very awake but at the same time slightly dreamy. He sighed and stretched his way through his first cup of tea. The door bell went and he glided downstairs and answered it. There was a man at the door dressed as a chauffeur who looked a lot like a dog. His eyes were round and brown and he had a jowly face.
“Your ride’s here” growled the dog man.
“What?” replied the artist.
“The Devil sends his greetings. He wants you to do a portrait of himself”.
It had been so long since the artist had been employed in what he took to be paid work. After all the Devil shouldn’t be short of some cash. The idea appealed to him. “Ok” he said “lets go”.
The artist settled into the plush interior of the large black car. “What’s that strange noise?” He asked of the rhythmic, rattling and pulsing that filled the car. “That’s my sounds man” pointed out the dog driver from the steering seat. The car oozed through the wet streets of London made dream like by the cars tinted windows.
After sometime the car drew up on the tarmac of a private airport beside a long sleek jet plane.
“In you go” the dog said in a malicious tone accompanied by a burst of barking laughter.