May Be Continued - Blog Posts

Look, we all make mistakes. Some, more than a few. Some, pretty bad ones in particular.

He was mine.

I was young, foolish, and met him at a cosplay convention. I assumed the short, nub-like horns were practical effects, and assumed he just didn’t want to break character. So, I asked him out, and we went out for drinks.

That’s when things got weird. It was still during the convention, and we both sat in the diner at the end of the street eating soul food and drinking chardonnay. When I asked him what his real name was, he laughed. It was a beautiful sound, like tinkling glass.

“I told you,” he said, “I’m the devil.”

When I laughed in turn, he seemed to pause. Looking pensive, he took out a piece of paper and a ballpoint pen and wrote on it. I can’t read upside down, and after he wrote it he covered it with his right hand. Grabbing his wineglass with his left and taking a sip, he stated matter-of-factly, “If I let you read this, you will see me as I truly am. No glamers, no illusions. But…” he stopped, again thinking.

“Read it at your own peril.”

He flipped the sheet over, and slid it across the table. I picked it up, and began to read.

There were five words written on the paper in Latin. “Ego sum, et videbitis me.”

“I don’t see why this –“ I looked at him, and stopped. He hadn’t really changed in form – he was still a young man, still beautiful, but the horns had shifted, turned into curling ram’s horns, and his eyes glowed red.

“Don’t shout, if you would,” He said calmly, “I prefer to not have to charm an entire room full of people, and I did just do you the service of putting your questions to rest.”

I was speechless, as one would be, given the circumstances. He put a finger to my lips, “I’ve had a fun time tonight, darling. Call me.” At this, he waved his hand over the paper, winked, and got up and strolled out, leaving a hundred-dollar bill on the table. I looked down on the paper. “Luci Morningstar – (666)-DAMNED1”.

Since then, I haven’t been able to rid myself of the cheeky bastard. He showed up at my house a couple weeks later – I came home from work and he was sitting on my sofa, drinking my beer, watching Keeping Up With The Kardashians on MY television!

Before I could even speak, he spoke, “You know, when I traded getting O.J. off for Robert’s soul, I didn’t think his family would make it this far. Maybe I should let him know the next time I visit his cage – I’m not sure he’d be glad or ashamed.”

“What are you doing here? How did you get into my house?”

He scoffed. “I am the devil, you know. Picking one lock isn’t exactly what one would imagine beyond me.”

I put my keys on the rack by the door. He began to speak again, “I’m still a little unhappy you never called me back. I thought we had a spark.”

I walked over and stood in front of the T.V. “Get out.”

He sighed, “I would, doll, but I seem to have made a few enemies. So, I decided to stop in, say hello. Maybe we can go on a second date? While I hide out from a few… less savory individuals.”

It was my turn to scoff. “Less savory than the devil?”

His expression turned from a smile to a stony stare. “Holy shit, you’re serious.”

He nodded. “You ever heard of the Archangels?”

I was raised catholic. Broke ties with my family over the whole ‘gay’ thing. “A little.”

“Well, don’t listen to everything you read. Michael is a brute who’s out for my blood, and Raphael’s the one nice enough to dress it up as procedure.” He sipped the beer again.

I took the beer away from him. “Hey!”

I downed the rest of his beer. “So,” I said, trying like hell to be resolute, “What do we do?”

Luci looked up at me. “Dinner?”

I went into the kitchen and pulled a bottle of vodka from the freezer. “How about shots instead?”

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“This is ridiculous. You date the devil *one* time and next thing you know he thinks you’re his girlfriend!”