Malcom, quite simply, had just fled while he still could. He went home, locked himself up, sat down and decided that from now one he would only do what is best at: thinking and not washing himself. In the meanwhile Jacob was getting crossed with all that's been going on, amnesia, no arms, wings, satan. He was particulary woried about having sold is soul. He found that talking about his soul in pubs got him laid! «Oh NO! What have I done?» Jacob turned around, saw the devil and wished «I wish there are no more gods or devils so that the world can go back to a fuss about neat things like Aimy's new skirt» «Ops!» said the devil just before we puffed into a cloud of smelly fumes, fortunately covered by a strange and exotic perfume that once was god. From then on Malcom couldn't understand why is mind was stacking with images of someones skirt. In a moment his wings disapeared and Jacob fell back in the litter. He reached for his mobile phone and ringed some friends «Let's get drunk?»   Bruno.