I returned to The House on the Hill exhausted, sore, and dripping with sweat. It had been a rough morning run, but it had been worth it. All I could think of now was chugging some chocolate milk directly from the container.
Like a sweaty rebel.
“I really wish you’d explain to me why you insist on torturing yourself like that,” came an all to familiar voice from my living room, which stopped me in my tracks on the way to the kitchen to claim that chocolate milk.
I backpedaled in the foyer until I could peer into the living room. Of course, I knew exactly who and what I was going to see, but I didn’t want to be a rude host.
“Host” was a term I was using very loosely since the being in my living room fancied himself to be a guest. The truth of the matter was, however, that in order to be a guest, you had to be invited.
“I run because I want to stay healthy and lose weight,” I told the Devil, who sat on my couch, reading my newspaper, and drinking my Snapple.
He was dressed impeccably, as always, in one of this tailored suits. His hair was perfectly slicked back, his face was tan, and he looked like he was posing for a fashion shoot.
I dabbed angrily at my sweaty forehead with my towel and hoped that the rest of the perspiration fleeing my body wasn’t warping my hardwood floors.
“You’re the Fallen Angel,” I snapped. “You tell me.”
The Prince of Darkness looked up from his newspaper and smirked at me. “I see your runner’s high brings out your inner bad boy. I like it.”
“Do you seriously not understand why I run?” I asked as I pointed to my out of shape body and sighed heavily.
“I just find it amusing,” Satan explained. “There’s an entire ring of Hell dedicated to running. It’s got treadmills that keep increasing the incline and speed, a track that simply never ends, and various cross country courses that somehow are made up only of uphill climbs and never any downhills. Plus, there’s no air conditioning, it’s insanely humid, and when it does rain, it’s the runners’ own recycled sweat that falls down upon them. It might be my favorite ring of Hell now that I think about it.”
While I might never have been to Hell, I definitely had a very good idea of what the Damned suffered through every day with The Devil.
And it made me hold my tongue so I could keep myself on a Heavenly path.
“I’m going to take a shower,” I informed Lucifer and headed off towards the kitchen.
“By the way, you need more chocolate milk,” he called after me. “I had the weirdest craving for some earlier and polished off what was in the fridge.”
The Prince of Darkness shook his head and went back to reading the paper. “He really shouldn’t run. It brings out a very ugly side…”
“I heard that!” I barked from the kitchen.
“I rest my case,” Satan whispered and took another sip of Snapple.