Friday, June 22, 2012

Dearth of a Salesman

David's hand glistened with sweat after he wiped his forehead clean. His ceiling fan churned overhead, doing little to lessen the cloying heat and humidity.

"I would give anything to be out of this heat," he muttered.

He heard the sound of popping bubble wrap behind him. He swiveled his computer chair around and saw the imp hovering in midair in the center of the room. It looked fairly stereotypical: small, somewhat chubby, hairless and with bright red skin and tiny bat wings. Its canine teeth protruded outside its mouth. It held a short, tarnished pitchfork in one hand.

"I hear you got a deal you want to make?" the imp asked. It spoke with an inexplicable Texan accent.

"Er." David had never encountered one of the infernal denizens before and he wasn't entirely sure how to react. He'd read a fair bit about them and how they go about their work, though.

"I was mostly just talking to myself there," he said at last.

The imp's body slumped. "You sure?"

"Yeah, positive. Sorry."

The imp sighed and vanished. David turned back to his computer.

Friday, June 8, 2012

The Good Olde Days

"Timmy, come down for dinner!"

Timmy bounded off his bed, sending a cascade of toys across the floor. He would clean it up after dinner, hopefully before his dad would see the mess. "A made bed is a happy bed," he always said.

Tonight the family was having roast beef, expertly made by his mother. She divvied up the portions while Father stood at one end of the dining room, smoking. Timmy wasn't old enough to smoke, not yet, but once he got old enough he would for sure start. Dad smoked and Timmy's personal hero, Wixia Kahn, also smoked. Dad didn't approve of Wixia. "Don't know how the youth got around to venerating a foreigner. All my role-models were from here, not thousands of miles away."

Come to think of it, Dad disapproved of a lot of things.

Timmy wolfed down his meal and even had seconds, but there was plenty to go around. Dad hardly touched his portion, opting instead to push it around. "You seem distracted, dear," said Mom.

Dad took a deep breath and exhaled twin plumes of smoke from his nostrils. "It's the damn higher-ups. They're looking to expand, even though everybody who actually does the work knows it's risky. We don't have any kind of foothold there and it's sure to cause back-and-forth." His voice took on a bitter note. "We're losing all kinds of ground to those damn Japanese as is. No time to waste it fighting among ourselves."

"I'm sure it will work out fine," said Mom, clearing Dad's half-eaten meal away. Mom was really good at calming Dad down. Sometimes, when Dad was especially stressed, the two of them went into the den alone and told Timmy not to bother them.

After dinner the family played with the family pet for a while. They'd just gotten a new one, and Timmy still felt pangs of regret. He'd played too rough with the old one and hurt its leg, so Dad forced Timmy to watch as he put it down. "You've got to follow through on your responsibilities, Son, and be more careful" said Dad as he broke its neck. "These things don't grow on trees, you know, and it takes a lot of time for them to grow large enough to go out on their own."

But the next day Dad had a new one, this time a girl. "Surprise!" he said. Of course she was skittish at first, still was at times, but she'd gotten a little used to her new owners. It was Timmy's responsibility to feed and water her, and to make sure her cage was cleaned every day.

When they put her away for the night, Dad escorted Timmy to his room while Mom cleaned up the den. Dad's keen eyes immediately noticed the trinkets haphazardly strewn about. "Timmychirix, what have I told you about keeping your bed made!" Dad roared. "I put in a lot of effort bringing it all home and the least you could do is respect that!" Dad's eyes glowed redly and smoke trailed from his open mouth as well as his nostrils.

Timmy curled into a servile ball on the cave's floor. "I'm sorry, Dad. I'll clean it up right away."

This seemed to satisfy Dad, who nodded curtly and left. Timmy carefully pushed the displaced goblets and amulets and rings, gems, and coins back into his ovoid bed. Dad wasn't being mean, Timmy told himself as he worked, he was being stern, making sure that I grow up into a dragon that would do him proud.