“I always hoped that if you were to emulate me in any way, it would be with your wardrobe,” The Devil informed me out of the blue. “Nothing against togas, mind you, but you simply cannot beat an impeccably tailored suit.”
I hated when he did this. We’d both be sitting in silence, minding our own business, and he’d start a pointed conversation and catch me totally off guard.
I looked up from my laptop to see if his facial expression would give me a hint as to what he meant. No luck. His face was still buried in the Sunday paper.
“What are you talking about?” I asked him as I closed the laptop and reached for my Snapple. There was no sense trying to write if he wanted to talk.
“The facial hair,” he replied as he turned the page. “I know I might be clean shaven right now, but the goatee is one of my classic looks. You getting your Satan on?”
Despite the stupidity of Lucifer’s comment, I had to chuckle as I reached up to stroke the hair that I had allowed to grow on my face.
That was enough to finally pull his attention away from the pages of the Bangor Daily News.
“First off, all magicians are evil, so there’s no need to add the adjective,” The Prince of Darkness stated like someone who was an expert on evil.
“Secondly, since you are an intelligent person, you naturally hate magicians, so there’s no way you’d ever apply for a job as one,” he added smugly.
I did the only trick I knew…I made my Snapple disappear. When I was done chugging what had been left in the bottle, I addressed his allegations. “Fine. A friend was looking at my Facebook photos, saw the one of me with a goatee, and told me I looked good and should grow one again. I figured I’m not doing well with the ladies all clean shaven, so it couldn’t hurt to go full goatee on the dating world.”
“I knew a woman had to be involved to get you to make a drastic change to your same boring routine,” The Devil commented with a chuckle. “And I know exactly the photo she was referencing. It was from back when She Whose Name Shall Not Be Spoken asked you to grow a goatee.”
I slammed my empty Snapple bottle down on the table in anger. “Please don’t go making her sound like some sort of villain out of Harry Potter.”
I shot Lucifer a look of abject horror.
“You take that back right now, or you are never again welcome in this house!” I demanded.
My look must have conveyed how serious I was because The Prince of Darkness held up his hands in surrender. “I’m not sure what I said wrong, but I take it back.”
“The characters in Harry Potter were not magicians,” I bellowed and my hatred for magicians was evident in the way I pronounced the word. “They were Wizards and Witches. There is a huge difference.”
“I stand corrected,” Satan admitted as he grabbed a fresh Snapple out of the cooler and held it out to me as a peace offering.
I took it, not because I was ready to forgive him, but because it was damn hot and I was seriously thirsty.
“Just don’t make that mistake again,” I cautioned. “And never refer to The Girl Who Moved Away in a Voldermortian manner, either.”
“Is that even a word?” The Devil asked cautiously.
“It is if I say it is,” I growled. “I’m a writer and we’re allowed to make up words.
Lucifer just raised an eyebrow, clearly not wanting to poke the bear yet again. I took a long sip of my Snapple, and tried to cool off both physically and emotionally.
“That would be highly logical,” Satan quipped.
“So you know Star Trek, but you don’t know Harry Potter,” I pointed out.
“I’ve been dealing with Witches and Wizards for centuries,” he explained. “Vulcans are new and refreshing.”
I sighed and plotted a course for my razor.