Warren's preoccupation with being a devil's disciple and his more than high self opinion made being his friend not quite an honor.
The Costume Shop had several nice Demon and self making costumes for those willing to become the Devil's Cull. You felt it was your duty to help as best one could, thereby making a future for yourself and maybe some riches to boot.
Almost closing time you got to the shop. A quick look in the direction of the "Demon" section saw the coat rack having just four costumes left.
Small, Large, Extra Large, and one Ladies size 12, you were in luck!
The store Clerk gives you a look which might have raised the dead, were you dead.
"Got a Demon convention going on there Fella?" asked the nice old man.
A simple shrug of the shoulders, a queer smile, and with your credit card charged, you pick up the costumes to leave.
"Don't you want your prize? You have a right to recieve a special gift, I suggest you take it now since we will close soon!' said the old Man proprietor.
"Huh!" your simple response.
The Clerk hands you a small Basswood box and from the feel it must have a bottle of some wonderous potion.
"Thanks!" says you a pause and then with haste you rush out to the car.
Once at Warren's house you show him the Demon costumes but fail for your own reasons not to show the special bonus prize.
Warren's face is all a glow, his own Demon costume has about cooked his body long enough to make what he is, permanent! Not a word of thanks do you get, not a gesture to let you think he liked your charity toward his devious cause.
Slowly you turn to walk out the house and back to the car. Then with a happy face and anxious delight you make tracks for that one special prize.
As the horrid scent of burning sulphur fills the air you know all too well Warren is making his rites with the Devils.
Slowly you open the Basswood box. The lid slides back, and there inside sets your prize.
"Demon Wine" it says on the round flask bottle. As you pick it up the bottle is extremely light in weight. A simple cork holds the wine inside the bottle and you marvel at it's reddish orange color.
A look over your shoulder toward Warren and his rotten egg smelling house, then you uncork your prize for a taste.