The idea for this sprang fully-formed while I was in the shower: light, frothy, mildly satirical wordsmithing. Let's see how it goes.
Enjoy the 2018 Halloween Contest! Make sure to read all the entries and vote on all your favorites.
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I: Ad Praeseminam
* * *
"Wake up, lazy ass."
"Mmmph." No. Why would I?
"Come on."
"Urghhh," I suggested, or something like. The voice was familiar: conceited, self-righteous, the voice of my oldest friend. A voice I was not interested in hearing. "Get out of here. I'm hung over."
"Hung over." The reply was dry and mocking, like his voice always was. "No. You're not allowed to be hung over, idiot."
"Allowed?" I burrowed more deeply into the duvet, wrapping it tightly around my body. I hated being cold. "What's the matter with you? I'm a fucking demon. Why should I care about what's 'allowed?'" The reply this time was... silence, the silence he always used when he was trying to get me to make a point to myself. Because, naturally, it was a weak argument, a classic in circular logic: the demon doesn't follow rules, which in itself is a rule, so the demon is following a rule... He'd learned that kind of shit at school. I'd learned it on the street. But I scoffed anyway. "
Allowed
."
He kicked me again, harder this time. In the ribs. "You remember what day it is?"
I bit back a harsh, eager retort; maybe he was onto something. I counted in my aching head; the weather had been getting colder, the days shorter; it was dark, now, during the morning commute. I blinked. "Tell me it's only the thirtieth," I pleaded.
I could hear the savage joy in his voice; fucking bitch. For such a smart guy, and a demon from the third fires of hell, Juvatis sure could be a sadistic asshole. 'Oh, I think you know better," he hissed.
"Do I?" I pulled the sheets over my head, but of course the game was up. "Fuck. Can't I just call in sick?"
"Come on." He gave one more kick, his claws not even sheathed this time. "You know how this works. All hands on deck." I heard his knees creak as he stood over me. "We've got work to do."
"No," I snapped sullenly.
"You've
got work to do. You're the one that's angling for a promotion."
"Exactly." I heard him rubbing his claws together, scheming; Juvatis was always scheming. "I'm angling for a promotion. And I need your help to get it, bro."
"Bro?" I sat up, incredulous; it had been awhile since he'd been friendly to me. "Bro? That's how this is going to be? Man, you don't even hang out with us anymore; you're too busy kissing Azaz'el's ass, trying to get that gig over in the Bureau of... fuck, what was it again? I can never keep the departments straight."
"Yes, I know," he mused. "Your unprofessionalism is well known all over the Nether Pits. But come on. I'll make it worth your while."
He was grinning at me, that old grin I remembered from childhood, when the two of us had just been wispy little djinns, fucking around in Mesopotamia and running messages for Adrammelech. "Worth my while, how?"
He shrugged. "I'll buy you a beer."
"Fuck," I scowled. Not worth it.
* * *
"I mean, you have to be up there anyway."
"Stop it."
"It's not like They were just going to let you stay in bed on Halloween, Morfis."
"Shut up."
"And since you have to be up there messing with the humans, I mean... why not give me a hand?"
I spat at him. "Stop. I'm here, aren't I?" I
was
, too, trudging up through the Fifth Circle along with all the rest: all the demons of all the Hells, all of us marching up to infest the Seven Worlds on Halloween Night. I could tell Juvatis was itching to say something, restraining himself with difficulty, dancing on the balls of his feet; I sighed. "What?"
"Well shit, man," he exclaimed. "What is it you usually do on the 'Ween? Run around all night, going for the low-hanging fruit?" He shook his head sadly. "You're better than that, dude. You used to be so good at this."
"Shut up," I repeated sulkily, but I knew he was right. Once, I'd been a rising star... well, a falling star, headed for the tip of the hierarchy. Neck and neck with all those guys who'd gone on to such better things: with Baal, with Pruflas; hell, even Iblis had been in the year-group behind me, and look at where that asshole was now. But then, of course, The Disaster had struck; I'd been fucked over by that idiot Lucifer during that thing with the snake and all that bullshit, and now here I was. Providing two-bit support for my friend on the make. I gnawed at my lip, mostly because I was hungry.
"Fine, dammit," I said at last, sighing hard. "I'd planned to possess a drugged-out student at a costume party. I'd been looking forward to it," I added spitefully. He frowned.
"Man or woman?"
"Well, see, that's the thing," I admitted. "Both." I'd always been good at going back and forth, and I like to feel it both ways.
"See?" Juvatis had stopped, his red eyes wide, shaking his head at me. "That's the spirit, Morfis!" I drew myself up a bit; he was right, I supposed. Most incubi couldn't do that, two occupations simultaneously. I'd mastered it centuries ago, then forgotten about it, but I still trotted it out on occasion; I found it easy. "I knew you still had it in you, bro!"
"Well, yes," I shrugged coolly, the old joke obvious. "But only when I'm the woman." His laughter echoed around the caverns, and I allowed myself to feel just a little bit of that old spark: maybe, just maybe, this was going to be fun.
* * *
"So, there he is."
"Which one?" We were floating malevolently above the street fair on Third, between Garfield and River Road, having taken the form of a pair of misty clouds.
"Over there, at the door on the corner. Next to the dry-cleaners." I squinted, a hard thing to do when you're a cloud, and tried to bring the man into focus. "He's the one wearing the brown vest," Juvatis went on with what sounded a lot like distaste. I paused.
"The what?"
"Oh. The waistcoat." Ah. Juvatis sometimes forgot I didn't come up here very often, certainly not frequently enough to keep up with the many twists and turns of a language as malleable as English. "He's a nerd," he added helpfully.
I started floating again. "What's a nerd?"
"Like a geek who reads all the instructions. And who's better at math."
I understood. "Like that Newton fellow." That had been a fun possession. I'd made him fuck another guy in the ass, that Swiss dude, and he'd been shocked that he'd done it; he'd been a virgin until then. The Church in his day would have been all over him if it had gotten out; the shame had made him so bitter he'd invented calculus. I'd gotten an award certificate for that one. They liked it when we increased the world's misery quotient, and calculus certainly had. "I see. So the waistcoat isn't a costume."
"No," he said cagily. "This is not the sort of man that dresses up for Halloween."
"Oh. And it's not ironic?"
"Nope. That's really how he dresses."
"No shit." I sighed. "So what's this guy's deal?"
The cloud beside me shrugged, which looked as cool as you'd think. "Oh, I don't know," he said airily, but then everything was airy in cloud form. "I think he's going to go on to invent time travel, or faster-than-light spaceflight, or something. Right now he's a tax accountant."
"Really."
"Really. But he's thinking of going back to school." Juvatis' plan was simple enough, I suppose: the old chestnut, possessing an ugly man and getting him to inseminate a beautiful woman. Part and parcel of the incubus' trade; in many ways, that sort of thing was the reason we were all here. It's not as much fun as you'd think, being a sex demon. It's not all cocks and cunts, or at least not all attractive ones. After all, hot people can fuck just fine on their own; we usually only come in when there are special circumstances afoot. Like ugliness, or body odor, or syphilis. "I'll go on down there and possess him in a few seconds, once I point out his bitch."
"Sure." I'd possess her. "Wait. Explain this again?" I frowned, making a few raindrops fall. "I mean, if your 'nerd' fucks a chick while I'm inside, how is that a challenge?"
"Well, see, that's why I picked you instead of a succubus," he explained once more. I was having trouble getting this; the hangover, no doubt. "I need Them to
think
I'm making the nerd do this on his own. Like I'm really working for it. So you, my friend, need to do a little acting. It has to look genuine, the fear, the trepidation. That's why I need you." He meant it as a compliment, and I nodded. "Someone devious."
"I see." I thought about it. "So she needs to want him, but not make it obvious."
"I knew I could count on you, Morfis." He patted me on the back, ethereally, and then he was scanning around some more. "Now then. Let's see." He swooped low. "I found her last week. A real firecracker."
Well. That sounded promising. "Sarcastic?"
"Oh, definitely." He giggled. "You'll be able to tell as soon as you see her costume, I expect. I was listening to her and her friends when they were picking it out."
"A virgin?" I asked; I'd find out as soon as I possessed her, but it always paid to know what I was getting into. Literally. Helped with my mindset.
He looked at me knowingly. "In one way, sure."
"Aw, c'mon!" This wasn't what I'd bargained for; I was hung over, for crying out loud. "You didn't say anything about anal."
"Well, who can say what'll get into my guy's head once he gets his cock inside her?" He blinked guilelessly. "I mean, I'm not going to set out to punch your shitter. But sometimes you just have to go where the spirit moves you, Morfis. But I promise I won't cum in there."
"Aww. You say the sweetest things."
