Demonic

by Jeff Strand

there’s no shame in deciding that glowing eyes and a demonic voice are more than you want to deal with at the present time.

“I tried to kill your husband, and he wouldn’t die.”

closed my eyes and tried to think of something happy. Kittens. Puppies. Fond childhood memories of the Scholastic Book Fair. Oh, how I’d loved the Scholastic Book Fair! And I loved those catalogs they sent home. We didn’t have a lot of money, but my parents would always make sure I got to order at least one book.

“You learn a lot about a person when you completely ruin their life,”

where would we get a shotgun?” “Walmart. This is America.”

I quickly chose a double-bladed axe that I could completely hide behind my back, for an affordable price.

I’m going to blow him.” “Blow him up?” “Blow him. Sexually.” “Oh,” I said.

I couldn’t decide if fingernail clippers were a sinister enough threat or not. It would hurt, obviously, and the basic concept was that it would take a really long time. But, I don’t know, it’s not the threat I would’ve personally gone with.

She, like me, seemed to believe that the word “fuck” conveyed the proper sense of rage.

“Then kudos, I guess.” “Thank you.” “That wasn’t sincere.” “I don’t care,”

Since I would be dying in the service of battling demons, I hoped that I’d show up at the pearly gates. “You didn’t vanquish the evil; still, you gave it your best shot,” St. Peter would tell me.

“You don’t get access to the best part of Heaven, but you can hang out in the main part, which is still a pretty sweet deal.”

my entertainment consisted of my own thoughts. It was very poor entertainment. Would not recommend.

Satan had quite a dental plan.

And the acceptance that you’re utterly fucked comes with a sort of freedom.

These were cultists who’d struck some sort of bargain with the Prince of Darkness, but I’m sure they were thinking that there was something seriously wrong with me.