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We Need to Talk

by Mac Childs 4 years ago in fiction
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Did you eat my pizza, Joe?

I live with a pretty judgey demon.

“We, you and I, need to have a talk.”

The voice is deep and unnatural. I turn, but no one is there. The lights blink off and back on, making a staticky hiss. The temperature drops sharply, and I can see by breath.

He does this shit all the time.

“I’m not talking unless I can see you,” I say. “Seriously, it creeps me out.”

“That’s the idea,” the voice growls.

“Yeah, I get it. It’s scary and it’s menacing. But it’s me. So, where are you?”

“I’m here…”

A thick, spiraling mist forms at my feet and slowly fills the room, engulfing me. Through the haze, I can just make out a looming black presence in the mirror behind me. It’s tall with broad shoulders and great horns jutting out from the sides of its head. Blue flames erupt from its eyes as it settles its gaze on my reflection.

“Oh, come on. Seriously, Mike? With the dramatics? Aren’t we past all that yet?”

“No. No, you come on, man.” The deep foreboding voice is gone. “I am a demon from the abyss, Joe. As in hell, man. I swear, you don’t respect me at all. That’s not cool, Joe. Not cool. I mean, I take you seriously, don’t I? I respect your job as a hostess at Applebee’s, don’t I?”

“OK first, I’m a waiter. A ‘guy’ waiter at Applebee’s. And I’m sorry, Mike. Really, I am. But, I mean, we’re in the bathroom. It’s hard to take your scary demon face seriously while I’m taking a piss. And we live together. I just think we can try to be, you know…normal sometimes.” We’ve had this conversation like three times since he moved in, and most of the time he’s cool. But then sometimes he goes all ‘Batman …I am the night’ and it’s hard to take.

“Fine. Whatever. Did you eat my last slice of pizza? Cause I left a slice in the fridge and now it’s gone,” he said. He’s still standing behind me all seven feet tall and brooding with the horns and the shoulders and shit.

“Dude,” I just stare at him.


“Could you…you know? Not be so demony for a second?”

“Huh? Oh…whatever. Yeah...better, buttercup?” The mist dissipates and with it the great black form revealing Mike’s true self. He’s barely five feet tall and dresses like an old Italian mobster with the velvet jumpsuit and big gold chains. He’s got horns, but they only stick out about two inches. His face is just a face. Like a human face, but with something missing. You can’t really tell what it is, it’s just not right. It’s like he’s trying to look human but just can’t seem to get it down, you know?

“Better. And no, I didn’t eat your pizza.”

“Somebody ate my pizza, Joe.”

“It wasn’t me, Mike”

“Somebody who had access to the apartment, and access to the fridge, ate my pizza, Joe.”

“I understand, Mike. But, it wasn’t me.”

“Then who ate my pizza, Joe?”

“I couldn’t say, Mike.”

He sat there and stared at me, in the bathroom, for the next five minutes without saying a word.

“Somebody ate my pizza, Joe.”

“Wasn’t me, Mike.”

I finished my business and walked out of the bathroom into the bedroom, where he was sitting on the bed waiting for me.

“I didn’t do it, Mike.”

I move down the hall into the living room. He’s on the couch.

“Still didn’t do it, Mike.”

“Somebody ate it, Joe. If you did, just say so. I’m a forgiving sort. We can put it all behind us and move on.”

“Forgiving sort? You transported the neighbor’s cat into the dog section at the pound because it peed in your flower pot.”

He laughed out loud. “Yeah, that was pretty good. But I like you, Joe. So just tell me and we’ll be good.”

“I’d love to, Mike, if it’d shut you up. But, as I have said repeatedly, I didn’t eat your pizza. It had goat’s blood on it, Mike. Goat’s blood. Why would I eat a goat blood pizza?”

“Cause it’s freakin’ awesome, that’s why.”

“To you, a demon, maybe. I didn’t eat it, dude.”

His beeper went off. He grimaced and jerked it off his belt. “Dammit, I gotta go to work. This aint over, snowflake.”

“Ok, can’t wait.”

In a puff of sulfur smoke, he‘s gone. He’s really not that bad as far as roommates go, but he can get stuck on something like this and it can last for days. My friends ask me why I put up with him; I tell them that he’s always on time with the rent and he always pays his share of the bills. He literally makes cash appear out of thin air. Like, POOF! Money! It’s great. So, if I have to deal with his crazy ass from time to time, I’m OK with it.

For now, he’s gone. And he’ll probably stay gone for a few weeks, maybe longer. When his boss calls, it’s usually for a long-term gig…like a haunting or a possession. That kind of stuff. That’s another reason I like him as a roommate. One time, he got full on exorcised out of some little girl and he had to stay in hell for like six months that time. Still, on the first of every month like clockwork – POOF! Cash was waiting on me on the kitchen table with a note that said “see ya soon, Mikey.” It’d be hard to replace that guy. Anyways, I check the time and realize I’m going to be late for work if I don’t hurry. It’s a long shift, so I figure I should grab something to eat before I go. I open the fridge, reach down and open the bottom tray with the veggies in it. He hates veggies. I shuffle some shit around and boom…

Who knew goat’s blood could be this good?


About the author

Mac Childs

I fight the good fight. I still believe that good beats evil, everytime, and the good guys are humble and brave. Old fashioned? Maybe. Delusional? Probably. Just imagine if we all lived in that delusion...come on, join me here in the sun.

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