"Let mE eXplAIn aGAiN" said the Red Leicester impatiently.
"You StIcK uP yOuR thUmB, aNd A nice MOtoRiisT sTopsss To pICk yoU UP. IT's caLLeD Hitch-inG"
"Nein, furchtbar, es ist nicht so leicht. Ve haf been trying for half an hour!"
As a flying ace, the Red Baron hadn't spent much time standing on the verge of rain-swept motorways, and it was beginning to try his frayed patience. The Red Leicster had made him carry the 'Stonehenge' sign, he was soaked to the skin and was feeling ratty.
"PeRhApss if yOu pUt A CoAT oVEr tHaT UNiForM..."
"I vos avarded zis Iron Cross by der Kaiser himself! Schweinhund, to suggest that I conceal it! - I vill now demonstrate ze correkt vay to stop a motor vehicle..."
The driver of the articulated lorry was on a long haul from Calais, and had been consuming an unhealthy amount of uppers to keep his eyes on the road.
A man in this situation shouldn't be confronted with a mad German with a flapping greatcoat in the middle of the lane shouting "Achtung! Halt! Halt! Wir wollen- !". He didn't even have time to brake and, as he reasoned later while scraping the remnants off the fender, it was probably just a hallucination anyway. Probably.
The Devil was avidly watching developments in his Mirror of Discord, and winced slightly when one of his pawns was knocked out of the game. He cradled his chin in his talons for a moment, pensive, then picked up his phone - it was, of course, red. He dialled the number. It was a one-digit number, which was just as well, as this was a one-digit phone.
The Angelic Host Switch board took the call and redirected it to the boardroom.
He waited while his call was connected, and winced at the harp music being played down the line. Finally, he got through.
" Speaking. Is that you, D? Did you see that dumb fighter pilot of yours get iced? Hehehe." mocked The Deity
Unfazed the Devil caried on - "I've been thinking. This is no way for gentlemen to settle disputes. Do we really need to involve the mortals? It's not exactly any of their business, and it all smacks of, you know... frivolousness."
"This is how it's always been, D. I really can't see any alternative."
The devil had been expecting this and he had a solution already lined up.
"Tell me, old man, have you ever heard of Paper, Scissors, Stone?"
Later, when the rules of engagement(best of three) and the neutral venue(Switzerland) had been decided upon, the two old players hung up, each smirking to themselves, each aware that it would all come down to this. It had started with a Word; there was a good chance it could end with a Scissors.
The Lord pressed his intercom button.
"Gabriel, cancel all appointments, re-route all prayers."
Then he settled down in his throne and, tongue sticking out in concentration, began practising.