Tim buys a book. Tim accidentally summons a demon. Hilarity, carnage, ensue.
Scene: A romantic dinner leads to a conversation of the utmost importance. This is the sort of intellectual fare that you are missing out on by not marrying me. Unless, of course, you did marry me. In which case, you sure are lucky.
Z: Would you kill a man for a million dollars?”
H: Absolutely not.
Z: Not for a million dollars? A million dollars.
Z: Would you stab a guy you really didn’t like?
H: For money?”
H: Then no.
Z: Howbout this: would you poke a hobo with a sharp stick for five hundred dollars?
H: Just poke?
Z: Well, you’d have to draw a little blood.1 But we’ll guarantee the hobo prompt medical treatment.
H: This is the most thinking you’ve done all day.
Z: What if the hobo was really sad? If, like, he expected a poke with a stick and it didn’t really bother him.
H: If you're the hobo. Otherwise no.
Z: Would you geek-slap a guy in a coma for ten bucks?
H: Make it twenty.