Verbal4

"I'll take one cheese, one fully loaded, and one with just tomatoes." I hand the

cashier money. Being a demon has its perks, one being able to conjure just about

anything. I stand aside to let an older gentleman order and pay. He is grizzled,

gray streaking his unshaven face, his face wrinkled like a lost shirt in the trunk

of a car, his hair only white wisps of air. suddenly I change, I too am older,

wearing a light blue parka and khaki pants, with a Mets ball cap covering my

graying hair. Shock! I am watching myself!

Do not worry human, I am your demon aspect.

Demon aspect? I am a demon!

Not yet, Arch. There is a waylay period after transformation where humanity

lingers. It is a troublesome thing to rid oneself of, humanity.

What are you doing?(I realize that I'm quite really worried.)

Doing what I must. Feasting.

An evil intent fills my core briefly, before washing out into a sea of tranquility.

I am frozen, unable to "think" thoughts freely. All I know now is demon.

DEMON

The human world. Its disgusting. Filth litters every inch, feelings smother the

air like a dark heavy smoke. Their thoughts resound off every surface, a laughable

cacophony of ignorance. Their essence intrudes into everything they surround,

like selfish parasites intent on gorging themselves to oblivion.

"Chilly night out eh?" I throw out the net, subtly. The old man turns around

recognizing me as an old friend.

"Tommy? Tommy it is you! How are you doing? How's the family?" He moves to

embrace me. I grit my teeth, dreading the contact with this waste of essence.

"Good, good. Both good I mean! Hahahaha." Worthless fake humor. He laughs

anyway, ignorant in his own demise. "Let me grab these pies. You should come for

dinner, we can reminisce! Oh the good ol' times." He smiles and shakes his head

longingly. Humans and their selfishness, always wanting more and never thankful

for what they have.

"Sure, sure." I conjure a bottle of very expensive high class whiskey, only

available to the denizens of the furnace. "I just so happen to have this

on me." I show him an evil grin, masked by camaraderie. I take a deep

swig, wiping my mouth afterward, exaggerating how tantalizing it is. He quivers,

swallowing down temptation.

"Oh no, I can't. I've been sober 20 years..."

"For old times sake?" I hand him the bottle.

No! Stop! You can't! You'll destroy him! 

Silence fool. I am at work here.

This is not my mission! Leave the poor fellow alone!

I growl inwardly, handing the bottle to the man. He wavers, eying the bottle and

then me, as if looking for some sort of acceptance. Idiot. I nudge the bottle

closer and smile.

The trap is laid, the bait is set, the prey has fallen. He takes the bottle and

brings it to his lips, the cold liquid hitting his tongue, sending chills down his

body. The liquid flows through his veins, his failure complete. That man, when he

returns to his home tonight, will no longer be the man his family knew. The man is

now no more than an empty husk;with his soul I walk away into the darkness.