In what financial analysts are calling a “diabolically innovative” move, Jack Jacobson of Tallahassee, Florida, has refinanced his home under terms that have raised more than a few eyebrows and ethical questions. In an effort to escape a 7% mortgage that felt more like a straitjacket, Jacobson has signed off on a deal that includes his immortal soul and his firstborn child as collateral.
Jacobson, who had hoped to ride the green wave of avocado farming, was keen on tapping into the millennial market’s obsession with avocado toast. However, the high-interest rates presented an insurmountable barrier, leading him to consider more ‘soulful’ financing options. “I mean, when the bank tells you your interest rates are going up, that’s one thing,” Jacobson said, “but when the guy downstairs offers a fixed rate for just a soul and a potential offspring? You start to weigh your options.”
Lucifer, who seemingly moonlights as a financial advisor, shared his take on the deal, “In the grand scheme of things, your soul and firstborn is actually, genuinely a better deal than you’ll get at many mortgage brokers right now. I don’t want to say it’s a steal, but… well.” The underworld CEO added with a fiendish grin, “Business is booming.”
This infernal refinancing scheme has apparently found traction beyond the Sunshine State. Lucifer disclosed a growing list of clients trading in spiritual and virgin assets to keep up with earthly payments. A Denver man reportedly traded his right eye, reminiscent of biblical times, to square away a car loan. Meanwhile, a family in Nevada signed away their daughter’s virginity for a Mediterranean-inspired pool renovation, complete with a grotto.
Back in Florida, Jacobson is reportedly scouring through dating apps, maternity wards, and even considering a mail-in application to ‘The Bachelor’ in a bid to meet the renegotiated terms of his mortgage. Friends of Jacobson have voiced concern, noting that he’s been brushing up on his nursery rhymes and baby-proofing his house, despite there being no baby on the immediate horizon.
Community response has been mixed. Some locals are calling it an innovative solution to a systemic problem, while others are dusting off their pitchforks and calling for a good, old-fashioned boycott of the underworld.
As the deadline for delivery approaches, Jacobson remains optimistic. “Look, I’ve always been a problem-solver,” he said, adjusting a new set of baby gates. “And I’m sure there’s a loophole here somewhere. Worst case scenario, I’ll start a GoFundMe for a soul buyback or a stork rental.”
In an age where the term ‘selling out’ has lost much of its sting, Jacobson’s case might just redefine it, setting a new standard—or underworld low—for the lengths one will go to for financial solvency and a slice of the avocado economy.
