“Ain’t no shame in losing honestly,” Johnny said. “Even if it’s the only honest thing you ever do.”

“Yeah, well, there’s the rub,” the devil said. “See, I wasn’t completely honest.”

“You don’t… you don’t actually have a gold fiddle, do you?”

“Not solid gold,” the devil said. He waved his hand, and a shiny if somewhat crinkly looking instrument appeared. “The foil is real gold leaf, but underneath, it’s… well… chocolate.”

Johnny stared at the devil for a moment, then burst out laughing.

“At least you have a sense of humor about it,” the devil said, handing over the gold-wrapped fiddle.

“I guess you don’t recognize me,” Johnny said.

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve met before,” Johnny said. “When I was ’bout twelve, thirteen… I ran into you at a crossroads and you made me a deal. I gave you my soul then and there, and in exchange you made me…”

“…the best damned fiddle player the world had ever seen,” the devil said, realization washing over him.

“That’s right,” Johnny said, shaking his head with a big, goofy grin on his face. “The best damned fiddle player… heck, I tried to throw the match, since if you beat me it would prove that I wasn’t the best and I could get out of our deal, but… I guess it doesn’t work that way? Because no matter what I tried, I played to beat the devil anyway.”

“Yeah, that’s how it works,” the devil said.

“So, you never had a gold fiddle…” Johnny said.

“…and you didn’t have your soul,” the devil said.

“Chocolate?” Johnny said, breaking the fiddle’s neck and proffering a piece.

“Sure,” the devil said. “Though it’s not actually very good chocolate.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t be.”

“Nope.”