[THEME MUSIC PLAYING]
[CRICKETS CHIRPING]
[FATHER SIGHS]
[EXCLAIMING IN ANNOYANCE]
[UTENSILS CLATTERING]
Honey, it's family hour,
there must be something on.
DAUGHTER: Oh, wow, Candied Critters!
[FATHER EXCLAIMS]
Oh, great. It's Monsters, our favorite show!
[MONSTROUS LAUGH]
Shh. It's starting.
[MONSTROUS LAUGH]
[FATHER CHUCKLES]
Her breath was hot on his naked shoulder
Tidal waves of emotions tore at her heart.
No.
Her heart was on fire.
[GASPS] No!
[PHONE RINGING]
Cookies by Zan.
Hello, Mr. Giegerson.
Yes, I have a new business.
I'm into cookies now.
A writer has to eat.
Of course I know you want $154.08.
There's a check winging its way to you
in some mailman's pouch this very minute.
And good morning to you.
Think cookies.
All I ask is for a bestseller, that's all I ask.
Where's your school project?
Oh, I forgot it, Mom.
Hurry up, you are not leaving this house without your protein drink.
[TIMER BUZZING]
Five, four, three...
[PHONE RINGING]
Cookies by Zan.
Yes?
Yes.
Yes?
Yes.
[CLATTERING]
Yes, of course, I like electricity
I've grown quite used to it.
What?
You're standing right by the switch that cuts off my current?
Yes, I see, well...
What if I drop off a check today?
Cash? That's what I thought I said. Cash.
I'll drop by cash today.
Right.
Right now.
Thank you.
Greedy sadist.
[BLENDER WHIRRING]
[BLENDER STOPS]
Tell Mrs. Brewer...
I hate Mrs. Brewer.
...you'll have your lunch money on Monday.
I collect this week.
Here's a note...
excusing you for being late.
And you don't hate anyone.
I hate Mrs. Brewer.
Marty.
But I love you, Mom.
Those things grow in your stomach, you know.
One of these days you're gonna explode.
[DOOR CLOSES]
[SIGHS]
It was high tide in her heart.
Got it.
"Surfs up,"
her heart seemed to say.
[CHUCKLING]
[PHONE RINGING]
It's in the mail.
[TYPEWRITER CLACKING]
[KNOCK AT DOOR]
Nobody's home!
[KNOCK AT DOOR] [PHONE CONTINUES RINGING]
I'm doing the best I can.
I don't buy myself clothes.
I don't have jewelry, furs.
We're vegetarians because I can't afford meat.
Something tells me you're not a bill collector.
Stay away, or I'll spoon you.
[SPOON CLATTERS]
You're Zantipe Bullock Fincher,
suburban widow, valiantly trying to make ends meet,
who'll one day panhandle in Manhattan's Lower East Side.
Mother of Martin Bullock Fincher, age ten,
who'll one day weigh 412 pounds.
I will not have a devil in my house.
Get out!
Oh, so you seem to have a knack in knowing who we are.
I don't need you in my life.
I have enough problems.
[PHONE RINGING]
Leave me alone!
All right.
You want my soul? You can have it.
But first, I got three wishes, isn't that the way it goes?
That's not what I came here for.
I want...
Martin is not going to weigh 412 pounds.
I don't want Martin to weigh 412 pounds!
He eats a lot of dough balls.
What do you want?
Let me be straight, which is...
I'm not here for your soul.
I already won yours.
Excuse me.
I had a bet in the Rams, see, for the Super Bowl.
Lucifer, my boss...
he bet on the Steelers.
The Rams won. So I won.
My prize is, I get to live here with you
while you ghost-write my memoirs.
What?
That means the story of the devil's life.
My life.
Now, I convinced Luce to be in the top ten non-fiction paperback.
He don't go for that sissy paperback fiction stuff.
Writers drink a lot, right?
Cigars, cigarettes, anything you want.
Why me?
You're a writer.
And this is the suburban type house
I always thought I might live in.
And I like the way you look.
Besides,
you got no choice.
I won the bet, Luce has to ante up.
You're stuck.
I am not going to write, or ghost-write a book for you,
or any devil, or anybody.
[SIZZLES]
I mean it.
You can't stay here.
[LOCK CLICKS]
DEVIL: If Lucifer says I can,
I can.
Are you a date?
Am I what?
Are you a date of my mom's?
She hasn't had a date since my dad died.
MARTY: Ryan Poznowski says it's healthy for adults to have dates,
'cause then they're not so tense,
and if they're not tense, they don't get so mad at their kids.
Eat your cream peas, Marty.
I'm not a date, I'm a devil.
Oh.
So, Marty, you like the Rams?
Eh, they got lucky.
Ain't no such thing as luck, kid.
Joey Simpson is gonna meet a Playboy bunny next week.
Marty doesn't need to know these things.
What things?
That the world is fixed.
The world is not fixed, Marty.
MARTY: Oh.
If you're not my mom's date, then why are you here?
Your mother's gonna write a book about what it's like to be a devil.
No, I'm not.
Wouldn't you rather have a steak or something?
We can't afford steak.
Wow!
Red meat makes me mean.
I'm not helping you with any book.
Do you live in hell?
Yeah.
Is it stinky and smelly?
And do people whine all the time,
and groan and moan and cackle?
And is it hot?
Yeah. Cool!
Could you put a hex on my teacher, Miss Brewer?
I hate her.
Marty, that's enough.
No hexes.
We'll talk later, my man.
Hey, Marty, you wanna give me five?
No, he doesn't.
Come on, kid, give me five.
"Surfs up," her heart seemed to say.
This is poetry.
You shouldn't waste your talent on these sex-starved housewives.
Why don't you write your book yourself?
Why should I work when I can just take the credit?
I get the feeling I'm bothering you.
You... burn your way in here,
and make yourself at home,
you're corrupting my son,
ask me to write a book for you.
What's is in it for me?
What, do you need something?
Look at this place.
I need a new washer and dryer.
I need my bills paid.
Mr. Giegerson and the electric company are not gonna wait forever.
Oh, my God, the electric company,
I forgot to go down and pay them cash.
[SNAPS FINGER]
Electricity is on me.
Martin could use some new clothes.
I'd like to get my hair done.
My nails done.
My feet done.
My body done.
Your body is fine.
Thank you.
Devil's life is okay for me.
But I don't know if you're suited for it.
I never said anything about wanting to be a devil.
Well, you accept something from us,
that makes you one of us.
A minor devil, of course.
You gotta work your way up.
[THUNDER RUMBLING]
And I'm low compared to...
[THUNDER RUMBLING]
Would you like a glass of champagne?
How about some candlelight?
Music?
[SLOW MUSIC PLAYING]
Would you like to dance?
I don't know.
But then a devil's life ain't so bad, is it?
Oh, my God.
Don't say that.
[MUSIC CONTINUES]
Welcome to devilhood, Zantipe.
[GIGGLING]
Welcome to devilhood, Zantipe.
I don't wanna be in the devilhood.
I don't wanna be a devil. Keep your hands off me.
Too late.
Hey, Mom!
Where did you get those clothes?
And what is this for?
School, Mom. It's my homework.
I know I'll get all A's on this one,
'cause Clancy had some slave do it.
MARTY: Right, Clancy?
Why do something if you can just take credit for it?
Can we do it now, Clancy?
What the hell, okay.
Okay, Mom, I'm getting back at Mrs. Brewer.
Watch this!
[GASPS] Marty! Stop that.
Mrs. Brewer is your teacher.
She keeps me after school.
MARTY: She makes fun of me.
I hate her!
Make her write,
"I will never punish Marty again,"
a million times!
[CHALK SQUEAKING]
[LAUGHING]
Stop it, this is inhuman.
You stop this right now.
Oh, Mom, you're no fun.
[DEVIL WHISTLES]
Steak sandwich, right, Clancy?
Nothing but, kid.
Marty, I want you to be good in school today.
Don't worry, Mom.
I want my son back. That's not my son.
DEVIL: He is Marty.
With advantages.
Oh, my God.
Don't say that.
I never thought I'd have to give up my soul for a washer and dryer.
If you don't take care of yourself,
no one else will in this world.
Ain't that true, Zantipe?
But what about the bills?
All the people I owe money to?
Yeah.
Giegerson's grocery burned down.
[GASPS]
All the records inside are burnt.
But I know I owe him money.
Make him prove it.
It's his word against yours.
That's not right.
You gotta take advantage.
I don't want any of this!
What you see is what you got.
Now, you gotta write that book.
No!
Don't mess with me!
We got a deadline!
This book's gotta be at the publisher's by midnight,
or I get demoted.
And I am not gonna be a pee-on devil...
again.
You hear me?
[POP]
Oh.
I heard you.
And if you need it so bad,
just write it yourself.
[TYPEWRITER CLACKING]
[RAPID RATTLING]
[SIGHS]
If I help you with this book,
would you undevil Marty?
And undevil me?
I can't do that.
It's not done.
Even if I wanted to, I couldn't.
All right.
Since it seems I'm a devil now,
I'll just talk to the boss myself.
No!
[EXCLAIMING IN HORROR]
Butt out!
[SIZZLING]
He's not happy.
If you don't turn in a top-notch manuscript,
he'll have you working venial sins for eternity.
He said that?
He wants this book to be a best-seller.
He wants things accurate.
He wants rhythm and pacing.
He wants correct spelling.
[EXCLAIMING IN ANNOYANCE]
He wants you to make being a devil exciting,
romantic, and glamorous.
What am I gonna do?
I made a deal with the boss.
Let's start at the beginning.
How did you become a devil?
It was 1921,
a year before the National Football League stepped in to ruin the game.
The Giants picked me off the streets of New York to play defense.
Exhibition game.
This Green Bay Packer calls my mother a tart.
So I smashed his head in.
They kicked me off the team.
So I went back to robbing banks.
And I got shot.
[SIGHS]
So...
now you think I'm a terrible person?
Did you go straight to hell?
Oh, no. First you gotta go through the showers.
[CHUCKLES] See, the she-devils,
they rub you all over with porcupine loofahs.
[CHUCKLES]
Then you go into a vinegar shower.
It makes you mean.
Do I regret being a devil?
It ain't easy.
Not even having you get to do whatever you want.
And hell?
You gotta knuckle under to the boss.
And it's the snitches.
Everyone's always snitching on each other.
So you don't get away with trying to change.
Besides,
a minor devil has never changed into a minor angel.
It ain't done.
But you'll make sure your boss keeps his bargain with me.
I'll give it my best shot.
Finished.
Clancy? Oh, hi, honey.
Hey, Mom, I scoffed it. I got all A's,
like I know more than the teachers.
Mrs. Brewer showed up totally freaked.
It was great.
What do you think you're doing?
Getting ready to relax.
You're not gonna drink a beer, you're ten years old.
Make me.
Stop glowing your eyes at me, young man.
All of this is coming to an end.
Why? I like life this way. It's easier.
It may be easier, but it's not right.
Where's Clancy? I need a book report on Mussolini.
He's gone to the publisher.
If the book gets accepted, he's gonna take our devilhood away from us.
[WIND BLOWING]
It's published!
Mom, this isn't fair!
Marty, go get ready for dinner.
Mom! Go, now.
Wash your face and hands.
We're not meant to be devils.
Just when things were going good.
Marty, now.
[GASPS]
Are you ready to raise a little hell?
It didn't work.
[ANGELIC MUSIC PLAYING]
Guess these'll take a little getting used to.
[THEME MUSIC PLAYING]