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"You mean I could wish for anything?" Bill lit up at the possibilities, staring up at the long-eared creature that had introduced itself as Kyubey.
Kyubey hopped down, sniffing at a plate of hot dogs before nibbling at one. “Anything. You just have to sign the contract.”
"Anything…" Bill clasped his hands and let out a sigh. "I… I could get my hair back. Or lose this weight! I could be back in high school shape. I could be the Billdozer again." He gasped… "Le-Lenore… oh. I could have Lenore…"
"Anything you want. Do we have a—" A gunshot pierced the relative quiet of Rainey Street, Kyubey losing a large chunk of its head before falling, twitching, to the ground.
"No. Dangit,Bill,IdonetoldyounottogomakinnogoddangcontractswiththatthereKyubey, Itellyouwhatthatisbadnewsandyoudon’twannagetyerselfmixedupinthatdangmegucaissufferingbusiness. NowyoustopthisdangfoolishnessandleavethewitchestoHankandme." Boomhauer nudged the small white corpse with his foot before turning around and walking off, as Bill dropped to his knees.
"Lenooooore!"
Dale walked around from the other side of the fence. “Jeeze, Bill, what’s your problem? Oh! Wingo! Look at that Kyubey. I bet I can taxidermy up that little fella. He’ll look great down at the gun club. By the way, speaking of Kyubeys, guess who signed a contract!” Dale smirked, getting a new cigarette. “That’s right. Rusty Shackleford.”