"You order six hundred and sixty-six candles?" Angela asked, her face a rictus of horror.
"Yeah," said Jezebob, walking in with one of the boxes. "You said that you needed a lot of candles."
"I needed those candles for the Christmas Mass!"
"So? I didn't order scary black ones," Jezebob said, dropping the box with a thud.
"But you ordered six hundred and sixty-six! That's the Number of the Beast! The Adversary's Area Code!" Angela wailed.
"No," said Jezebob, "Lucifer's area code is actually 415. I mean, shit."
Angela took a step back and sezied a crucifix from the wall. She held it up before her.
"Be gone, beast!"
"What? Ow, that thing burns, could you set it down for a second?" Jezebob pleaded.
"I cast thee from this place of holiness!" Angela said.
"Is knicking that silver goblet from the rectory holy?" Jezebob asked, shielding his eyes with his hands that had begun to smoke and turn red.
"What I do when I'm in the rectory is none of your business!" Angela bellowed, then clamped her mouth shut and lowered the crucifix. "You saw us?"
"Listen, I may be a devil, but I'm no blabbermouth," Jezebob said. "I'll keep my trap shut about you doing the horizontal mambo with Monsignor if you keep yours shut about my need for Christmas bunt cake. Lucifer allows it but you can tell he's not really happy."
The Moral: the road to hell isn't lined with bunt cake shops