A Strange Summoning-Part 3, written by Mitchell Stoycheff for www.plcobb.com
A Strange Summoning, Humour, Series

A Strange Summoning – Part Three

Part 1 | Part 2

I nodded, horrified, turning towards the demon with great interest. A spoon hanging halfway from my mouth. “You’ve got to be kidding.” I muttered, savoring the taste of vanilla on my tongue. “So she threw herself at you?”

The Demon gave a tired nod. His face fell. “Yes. Even now I can hear her yearning screams. As she pleaded for me to take her.” He paused, shivering slightly to himself. “It was horrible. S-she just kept throwing herself at me. Like some mad beast.”

“You poor thing.” I muttered. Patting the Demon on the back, I turned to Claire. “Look what you did! You gave him nightmares. Surely you can’t find more compliant people.”

She glared at me. “Trust me, I’ve tried,” She hissed. “The problem isn’t me, it’s the people.”

She gave me a pointed stare. I felt kind of wounded by that. I was a catch! I mean, surely she had to see that. I shook myself and forced a glare back at her. For that, Claire, you’ve gained the Hateful Bitch status!I  then made a shushing sound, as the demon choked down a sob.

“She’s right you know.” The Demon sniffed.

Oh great, now the demon was being mean! I couldn’t be THAT bad, could I? Meh. Maybe I am …

“The world used to run screaming at the very mention of demons. Now they simply question my existence. Do you know how hard it is to find good people? Followers that will follow your every word? Such devotion is lost among these new generations.”

“Hello! I’m a Devout Follower!” Claire shouted balefully.

I waved at her to be quiet. She didn’t count. Claire made daggers at me and the Demon chuckled.

“Oh yes, and so far you have brought me a nihilist, a nymphomaniac, and ah … what are you?” He looked to me.

“Who knows, I just woke up in a comfy chair. Really, I’ve been confused since the beginning. At this point I’m just going with the flow. Do you have any coffee?”

The Demon shrugged, conjuring a cup of coffee. “At least you listen to me.” He gave his finger a swirl and the black coffee lightened. I smiled at the aroma.

“What!?” Claire’s face paled, aghast at the suggestion.”We listen! Have we not done everything you have asked of us!” she demanded. “Have we not gone out to fulfill your needs?”

The Demon pointed to me.

I looked up between the two of them, a spoon sticking out of my face.

“Nof wreary.” I shrugged, talking around my spoon. I wasn’t bothered. I had cake. What more could I ever want in life anyway?

Was that sad? Did my life really spiral this out of control? When did cake supersede the need for survival? Oh right! The whole cult thing … Wow, this whole thing has really changed … Whatever! Cake, coffee, and a comfy chair! Life is pretty interesting when you’re about to die!

“This insufferable fool?!” Claire shouted throwing her hands up. She pointed her finger at me. “All you’ve done is talk and stare off into space as if you’re having some long drawn out conversation with yourself. I’ve done everything for you. I even sacrificed my favorite cat!”

“Whoa!” I gasped, stopping her right there. “That’s pretty dark. You’re a bad lady.” I told her, shaking my head disapprovingly. The Demon nodded in agreement.

Claire’s mouth dropped. “Seriously?!”

“Well yeah…I mean- ah” the demon stuttered. “You seemed pretty desperate–”

“Maybe it’s an attention thing” I interjected, then looked at her. “Did you get enough hugs as a kid.”

“What-” She started.

“Maybe she was always this way? Tell me, did you enjoy picking the legs off of spiders? I read an article that that is a trademark behavior of a budding serial killer.”

“Ooooh, I read that one too. Fascinating read.” The Demon nodded vigorously. Claire let out a scream of frustration before running out the door, tears streaming down her face.

“Poor thing.” I muttered. The Demon nodded, shaking his head.

“I know. She tries too hard. She just needs to relax I think. I mean, even my cousin Theo had a few followers who-” He shivered and stopped himself as if the idea frightened him. “Writers,” he muttered. Wiping himself of his previous thought he turned to the remaining cultist, who gave him a dramatic bow. “This has been all fun and dandy, but I can no longer indulge of this offering. Your attempt was… well…” he paused awkwardly, frowning. “Quite frankly it lacking in many ways. But! I do applaud your efforts. May I suggest you go after someone more pious. Someone, perhaps, a bit more afraid of hell-fire and brimstone?”

The cultists said nothing, their eyes shifting uncomfortably under the Demon’s scrutiny. This was awkward. The Demon felt it too.

“I will dispose of this offering.” He proclaimed suddenly. “Do not call me again until you have attained someone worthy!” He finished with a roar.

Wait. What? Did he say dispose!? I looked over and suddenly the Demon grew bright and hot, like a supernova about to explode. Before I could utter a word of protest white fire shot outwards in a great arc of heat. I threw up my hands, crying out. But I could do little against the force; I screamed as the fire overtook me and darkness clouded my vision. This was it. I felt myself falling, the sensation driving me downward and then forward, until the sensation stopped.

But I knew it. I was dying. Engulfed in the aforementioned hell-fire. Left to burn for eternity, a personal purgatory of pain and despair … Thrust out of reality and into incredible darkness aloft a bed of something soft.


I opened my eyes. The Demon stood several feet away from me. Looking at me the same way you looked at something questionably unstable.

“Now,” he started. “I know mortals haven’t traveled much through dimensional rifts. But you’ve been screaming for a solid twenty minutes.”

“Oh.” I muttered, chuckling nervously, wiping my hands on the chair. “Er…well. It was terribly frightening.” I told him.

“That was a lot of screaming.” He reiterated.

“You ARE a demon.” I told him. He shrugged.

“So I’ve noticed.”

I paused awkwardly. “So … want to watch Golden Girls?” I threw out the suggestion, eager to change the subject.

The Demon’s eyes lit up. “Betty White is the best thing ever. We are rooting for her to live forever.” He beamed and settled on the couch. The TV flicked on by itself, followed by the intro to Golden Girls filling the living room with its happy tune.

Part 1 | Part 2

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