The Solution

The goat stared blankly ahead—or at least as best as it could with its eyes on the sides of its head—and occupied itself by chewing on some grass near the post it was tied to. Gregor carefully untied the rope from the post and led the goat to the nearby altar.

Once at the altar, Gregor put the goat in a headlock and, leaning in hard with his substantial bodyweight, swung the goat to the ground. Startled, the goat started bleating and kicking in protest, though Gregor was experienced enough to avoid the worst of the animal's flails. Kneeling on the goat to keep it from escaping, Gregor wrangled with its legs—first the back, then the front—and tied them together with thick twine. With its limbs immobilized, Gregor lifted the animal and gently placed it in the center of the altar.

While the animal wrestling was the most physically demanding part of the process, it was straightforward. The next step was always a bit trickier, at least Gregor thought so. He lit the candles that were placed at strategic points on the outer edge of the round altar. The light of the flames danced warmly, invitingly, against the dark wood of the altar. He walked back to the nearby fence, pulled on the waiting black robe, and raised the hood, which almost completely covered his face.

Back at the altar, Gregor bent down to reach the shelf underneath, rising again a moment later holding a ceremonial dagger. The golden hilt was encrusted with gemstones and the blade, which was nearly as long as his forearm, gleamed in the candlelight.

Gregor moved into position near the goat’s head—it was still trying to wiggle out of its bonds, though it wasn't finding any success. Clutching the dagger in both hands, Gregor closed his eyes and spoke quietly, his voice just above a whisper.

"Domine, occidere est creatura. Confirma me: et quo reo hominem et impleta est vita!"

As the final words left his lips, Gregor held the goat's head still with his left hand and sliced its throat with the blade in his right. Blood gushed out from the animal's neck, flowing to the edges of the altar and spilling onto the ground below. The goat tried bleating again, but its larynx had been severed, so the only sound it made was an unsettling gurgling as the life drained out of it. In less than a minute, the creature was dead.

With the sacrifice complete, Gregor carefully pulled the robe over his head, turning it inside out as he removed it—keeping any blood that splattered on the robe—before walking back to the fence. Once at the fence, he placed the robe across the top rung before walking around the edge of the altar, blowing out each candle as he reached it. With the goat lying in its gore and the candles extinguished, Gregor lifted the latch that held the gate closed and stepped through.

Outside of the fenced area, Gregor walked out the door of the shed and closed it behind him. Back in the sunshine, Gregor did a quick inspection of his clothes for any stray blood. Finding none, he made his way up the hill. As he walked, he grumbled softly to himself, complaining about the heat of the day. At the hill's summit, he pulled his name badge out of his shirt pocket and swiped it across the RFID reader. After a beep and an audible click, Gregor pulled open the door and walked into the office building.

Back in his office, Gregor found that the laptop he had been working on and turned it on—it still wasn't connecting to WIFI. He grumbled annoyedly and picked up his desk phone. He pulled a Post-it Note off of the laptop and dialed the four-digit extension number written on it.

"Hello," the voice on the other end said, "this is Michael."

"Hey, Michael," Gregor replied. "This is Greg from IT. I'm sorry, but I wasn't able to fix your laptop. I'll have to order you a new one."

"Aw, really?" Michael asked disappointedly. "There isn't anything else you can try?"

"Believe me," Gregor said, sighing slightly. "I've tried absolutely every possible solution."

Lunchtime

"Hey, Charlie," Ralph said as his coworker took a seat next to him.

"Hiya, Ralph," Charlie said, putting his brown paper lunch sack on the cafeteria table.

"Whatcha got for lunch today?" Ralph asked, making conversation.

"Pastrami on rye," Charlie said as he pulled a sandwich, still wrapped in butcher paper from the deli, from the sack.

"Nice!" Ralph said, nodding his head enthusiastically. "You go to Petrucci's?"

"Nah," Charlie said as he unwrapped his sandwich. "Went to a deli that Rick recommended. Some place called Applegate's."

"Never heard of 'em," Ralph said, picking at his reheated meatloaf leftovers. "They new?"

"I guess," Charlie said, shrugging. He picked up one half of his sandwich, which had been cut diagonally, and took a bite. The sandwich was stacked high with thinly sliced meat and included spicy brown mustard and a healthy portion of sauerkraut. Even though the sandwich had been made about ten minutes prior, the meat was still warm, the toppings still cool, and the bread wasn’t the least bit soggy.

Ralph watched as Charlie bit into the sandwich, envious of his friend’s lunch. However, as Charlie took the first bite, he change: the color drained from his face and dark circles surrounded his eyes, his fingertips turned a ghastly gray and his nails nearly black, his dark brown hair darkened until it was jet black, and his normally plump build shrank until he was gaunt and his cheeks were sunken in. The change was complete almost instantly.

Ralph, not believing what he was seeing, blinked hard. When he opened his eyes, Charlie looked normal again.

"You feelin' okay?" Ralph asked.

"Yeah, why?" Charlie said, his mouth full.

"This is gonna sound crazy," Ralph said, "but you looked like you died for a second."

"Oh, that," Charlie said, nodding to himself. "So, the thing with Applegate's is, by eating their food, I've sold my everlasting soul to the devil and will spend all of eternity being tortured in hell."

Ralph's eyebrows shot up in shock. "You sold your soul for a sandwich?"

Charlie nodded as he took another bite.

"Was it worth it?" asked Ralph, still in shock. "How's the sandwich?"

"I'm not gonna lie," Charlie said between chews, "this is one killer sandwich. I'll probably go there again tomorrow."

Ralph stared at his now-damned friend, his eyes wide with disbelief. He shook his head and looked back at his own lunch. After a moment, he looked back at Charlie, who was clearly enjoying his lunch.

Ralph asked: "Mind picking me up one?"