t Richard X. Ellison, 2013
All rights reserved.
All characters, events and locations in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
The moral rights of the author have been asserted.
Richard X. Ellison is a pseudonym.
Demonicus Misanthropicus
A short story by Richard X. Ellison
“I am so tired of these people,” Necroloogeus said, “it’s been thousands of years and no matter what we do, nothing ever changes. Sure they’ve got better cellular phones and the word from downstairs is that there’s going to be more road related carnage due to driving while texting in the next ten years, but aside from that...it’s all really the same.”
“Really?” Morghoulus asked, “who told you that?”
“Beelzebub,” Necroloogeus gargled offhandedly, snorting out fire from his nostrils as he spoke. His disdain for the demon named was more than evident. “Apparently he worked closely with Steve Jobs on that one. Smartphones...I wish I’d thought of it, they might’ve pushed me up to the corporate sector. Instead I’m still out here on the street torturing these random pedestrians.”
“Oh come on, it’s not so bad,” Morghoulus said. He was perched high above the city streets, precariously dangling from a stone gargoyle during the 4:30pm rush-hour traffic. He looked more or less like the sculpture that he clung to, except that he was scalier, fuzzier and colored like blood and dirt. His teeth were like oily needles dripping tar and his eyes mirrored a hellish inferno. “Look, there’s one of those Fortune 500 guys now!”
“Can’t do it,” Necroloogeus said, “I know that one, I’ve been waiting a year for him to take a walk down the street...but he arrives in a chauffeur driven town-car and leaves in one. Not my jurisdiction.”
He was curled up in front of a dumpster on the sidewalk. He looked like a bi-pedal dragon with stygian black tentacles bleeding acid. His face resembled that of Morghoulus, but with a slightly purple hue...it was a sign of his age. Both hell spawn were shifted just enough out of phase with reality to render them invisible to the naked eye. Only a human being gifted with ‘the sight’ would be able to perceive them. They spoke to each other telepathically...as only demons related by blood could. They were, after all, cousins.
The telepathic link remained dormant while Morghoulus thought of ways that he might cheer up his seemingly disenchanted older cousin. Finding his options limited, he pressed on with idle conversation. “So, what else is up?” he asked.
“I used to like this job, I don’t know what’s wrong with me these days. Everything is just so blah!”
“Blah?”
“Yeah, just blah!” Necroloogeus spat out, foaming fire in the process.
“Maybe you’re just used to the way things used be,” Morghoulus suggested, “you know who’s really doing some interesting work right now?”
“Who?”
“Saleos!”
“Saleos!? Come on! That thing he did with the mirage of soldiers in Greece was like...the only cool thing that guy has ever done!”
“I’m serious!” Morghoulus insisted, “Miley Cyrus twerking? That was him. Ben Affleck being cast as Batman, that was him too.”
“You’re putting me on!”
“I’m totally for real dude. You’re still thinking like it’s 1657. These days it’s better to go viral and cause mass discomfort and let the goats without horns do the rest by themselves. Like when that guy killed his neighbor for playing the Whitney Houston song? I mean, I saw the power of film a long time ago...making ‘The Bodyguard’ is what I’d like to be remembered for!”
Necroloogeus hated when his cousin lauded that particular achievement over him. It wasn’t that he jealous...even though he was...it was that Morghoulus always found a way to bring up that nugget of information every single time he visited.
“Give me a couple minutes, I’ve got to keep on schedule if I’m going to hit my quota today,” Necroloogeus said as he took corporeal form, dressing to look like a common vagrant.
He turned out of the alley and fell into stride behind a hipster who was bouncing along to the tunes on his music player. The young man provided a perfect cover. He’d draw the attention of everyone they passed, leaving the hobo behind him unnoticed. The streets were bustling with activity. From taxicabs to bike messengers, pedestrians, delivery people and casual window shoppers...maintenance crews and roadside marketers...this street had it all.
Necroloogeus spotted a well-dressed man about to cross the street and simply with a flick of his wrist, raised the level of a puddle on the sidewalk. The man hopped over on instinct and as he was about to land, Necroloogeus flicked his wrist again, slipping the manhole cover to the side. The man disappeared through the opening without even the faintest cry for help. Necroloogeus sighed to himself...he still wasn’t having any fun.
They walked on as Necroloogeus spotted a fat man stuffing down hotdogs at a roadside vendor. Necroloogeus tapped him on the shoulder as the man took another huge bite. The gobbler began to choke and soon turned blue in the face, dropping to his knees...struggling for air. Necroloogeus simply walked on. He turned for a moment to see the man still croaking and fighting for air. “Die already,” he said with a furrowed brow and an irritated stare.
A little further on he spied a bike messenger zipping through traffic. A mild gesture with his hand was all it took to nudge a car an inch into the biker’s path at just the right moment. The messenger was suddenly airborne and flew crashing through the windshield of the Semi-trailer-truck ahead of him.
“Now that was cool,” Morghoulus said.
“Hmmph,” Necroloogeus sighed, fairly unimpressed, “one more, then I’ll take a break.”
“Okay,” said Morghoulus.
Necroloogeus quickened his pace just enough to catch up with the youth ahead of him. He put his arm around the young man’s shoulders and pulled him in to an abandoned alley, throwing up a veil of enchantment across the entrance as he did. To anyone looking in, the alley would now appear empty and far too creepy to chance entering alone.
He forced the young man in to the dead end before he began to take his true form while he spoke the words, “you...I’m doing...just...because...I...HATE...HIPPIES!” His voice turned from a human pitch to an otherworldly growl as he spoke.
The look on the boy’s face was an intense mixture of blood curdling fear and exceptional disbelief. He screamed a cry that could’ve woken the dead but no one heard him. He began waving his arms like he was a dancer on stage and doing jazz hands...shouting “noooo! Noooooo! NOOOOOOO!” and was silenced when Necroloogeus quickly and unceremoniously bit off his head.
Necroloogeus swallowed the head and then picked up the body before shifting out of phase and dropping the veil of enchantment. He curled up next to the Alley’s dumpster and began snacking on the hippie’s thighbone. “Alright, where were we?” he said to Morghoulus.
“I was just saying that you’ve got to start thinking bigger if you want to get noticed. Look, this kind of thing is entertaining for a young hungry demon just fresh out of hell, but you’ve got to start thinking about the future. Pretty soon you’re going to be the oldest chaos demon on the earth realm and the new hatchlings are all going to go past you. Have you seen what they’re doing with Facebook and Twitter? Belial totally nailed that thing!”
“I’m old school Morghoulus. The most fun I’ve ever had was during the plagues in Egypt. Those were some good times! I don’t want to sit behind a desk, I want to be where the action is!”
“Dude, you know there’s always a long wait while the big man plots another boardroom coup to make a change in the
earth’s management. We’ve just got to wait it out like everyone else. We’ll have another Egypt someday!”
“I just feel like we haven’t had a good Armageddon for so long!”
“You’re just a little restless, it’ll pass.”
“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Necroloogeus said in resignation, “So how’re Lamashtu and the kids?”
“Fine, fine,” Morghoulus said, “oh you know I brought Xagath to work with me the other day. You know what the little devil did?” he asked with paternal pride.
“What?” Necroloogeus asked, faking enthusiasm.
“Well I was conducting a possession seminar at the New York Stock Exchange and I had all my students there, it was quite a big deal. So we’re looking down at the pit while I’m explaining how to possess discretely to channel a man pig’s actions...when all of a sudden Xagath takes full control of one of them! I was a little wary at first but I didn’t want to have to stop and discipline him in front of the whole class. Anyway, it worked out great! He made the man pig go short in a bull market and one of those companies took a billion dollar hit! It had a butterfly effect too...houses repossessed, jobs lost...and the usual crime and discontent that comes with that sort of thing. Lucifer himself came up and gave the little guy a pat on the head. He said to the whole class to, ‘look out for this young demon’, and that he’s expecting great things from him. I was very proud.”
“I’m sure you were!” Necroloogeus said, rolling his eyes. He hated hearing Morghoulus brag. “Hey, what the hell is up with that new ‘Morbid Angel’ album?” he asked, steering the subject away.
“Oh that was one of the archangels, might’ve been Michael! I heard they were concerned that the band was getting too much press in anticipation of their new lineup so he convinced them to change their sound. It worked though, I mean they alienated a huge chunk of their fan base.”
“That is just low!” Necroloogeus flamed, aghast at the news. “What’re they going to do next? Make blackmetal disappear?”
“Nah,” Morghoulus said, “it’s still a niche genre.”
“Hold on, there’s a girl coming in here,” Necroloogeus said as a young lady stepped in to the alley while talking to someone on her phone.
He scratched his chin with a talon while he considered what he should do with her. She walked closer and closer toward him before he decided that she’d make a fantastic mental patient. He zapped in to phase with her and stood, stretching out his winged arms to reveal his full imposing stature...before letting out a deafening roar filled with all the voices in hell.
She went terribly pale at first and her head began to wobble as though she were seconds from passing out, but then turned and ran...arms flailing about while she screamed through a flood of tears, “HELP, HELP ME! IT’S A MONSTER! HELP ME!”
Necroloogeus phased out again and sat down beside the dumpster.
“What now?” Morghoulus asked.
“Wait,” said Necroloogeus.
Fifteen seconds later the young lady returned to the alley with two police officers, screaming and pointing at the empty space where Necroloogeus had revealed himself. She seemed to be irredeemably hysterical.
“Oh! I get it,” Morghoulus said.
The police were trying to calm her down but she wouldn’t listen. She insisted that she’d seen what she’d seen. They attempted to restrain her but she fought them off. She cried even more and began shouting at them repeatedly. One of the officers attempted to convince her of his belief, but that she would have to come with them because she was disturbing the public. She promptly slapped him in the face and they were forced to taser her to drag her away.
“Well, that one’s going to the nut house,” Necroloogeus said with a smile of satisfaction.
“You’re a true artisan my friend,” Morghoulus added.
“Now I feel better! You know what it is? Destroying lives is so much more rewarding than ending them.”
“I have to admit, that was rather impressive.”
“We’re still on for drinks this Sunday?” Necroloogeus asked.
“Sure thing.”
“Thanks for the visit. Say hell-o to Lamashtu, Xagath and Brevuxk for me.”
“Will do, see you Sunday,” Morghoulus said before he let go of the stone gargoyle and flew away.
Necroloogeus watched him sail off on the breeze and then put his head down to wait patiently for his next victim, his quota still wasn’t filled.
The end.
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