The Devil is sitting across from me. It's weird, obviously, but it's also kind of neat. I mean, shit, The Devil, in my living room. Sipping on my Pepsi. You wouldn't believe it. He's in my red suede-type chair - how appropriate, I know - with his hands (well, more like huge sharp looking fingers) on the arm rest, one clutching the arm and a cigar, the other with the Pepsi that looks oddly tiny by comparison. (On a side note, it turns out that Pepsi really is the choice of champions, if you consider the Devil a champion - this is all debatable, of course.)
So there the guy is. Looking at me with those yellow eyes, licking his lips all sexily with that totally clichéd goatee thing that I've always picture him having. He doesn't look like a monster though. Sure, he has cloven feet and a tail, but he's kind of handsome. At least in that weird way that some cartoon characters are handsome, like Goliath the Gargoyle or Optimus Prime the Transformer. He doesn't look human, but he's not that far from it. Just different. Some might say hot. I might be one of those people.
He's been staring at me, drinking his Pepsi, as I sit on the other sofa. Mine's purple and comfy. The sofa, that is. I'm kind of concerned. I mean, what's he doing here, in my living room, drinking cola? I can't seem to muster up to courage to say anything. And I'm kind of concerned about my hair. I really should have gotten those highlights. I would have liked to at least look a little better if I knew he was going to visit…
“What are you doing?”
I'm finding myself in a loop that has been thrown. What do I say to that? Does he mean in general or right now? Does he want some fantastic celestial answer? Because I can't give him that…
“Umm…just hangin' out here with you…” God, I am such a dork. Oops! I hope he didn't hear me think about the G-word. Am I blushing? Maybe he won't notice.
He keeps staring at me. “Would you like to do something for me?”
This is one of those moments that your parents tell you about when you're a kid. They let on that at some point you'll have to make some very difficult decisions. What's good, what's bad, what's easy, you know - all that bullshit. I mean, I've had a few similar moments before, like that time I kicked that little brown puppy that peed on my shoes, or that time I spit in a little girl's hair after she threw a rock at me. But those were different. And like, this one really takes the cake.
After a short pause, I manage to mutter a “sure.”
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