Of course, he still wore an impeccably tailored three-piece suit and looked like he had just stepped off the runway at a fashion show, despite his complaints about the unrelenting Maine heat.
What a jerk.
“For the amount of money it costs me to heat this place every winter, I refuse to spend any additional funds to cool it off during the summer,” I explained as I hiked up the bottom of my sweat soaked toga to allow my legs to get some air.
“That is ridiculous logic,” Lucifer growled in disgust. “I’ll write off this monumental case of stupidity to the fact that your brain is most likely boiling right now.”
As annoying as it might be to hear, The Prince of Darkness was right to complain. It was hot, and I would be bitching, too, if I had the energy. I’d spent the last two nights slowly roasting in my bed as the fan in my bedroom did very little to cool the disgustingly hot night air.
“Why is this little Maine heat wave even bothering you?” I demanded as I wondered how it might feel to crack a tray of ice cubes directly onto my chest. “Isn’t Hell a lot worse than this on its coolest day?”
“You’re completely missing the point,” Satan informed me as he dabbed at his handsome face with a handkerchief even though there was no sign of sweat. “I come here to escape work and have a mini holiday. I don’t want to be reminded of it while I’m here.”
I just sighed. Not because I disagreed with what he had said, but because I was too drained to form any words.
I ripped the top off of the cooler that sat in front of the couch, and I stared at the bottles of Snapple that floated in the icy water.
Never before in my pathetic life had I so badly wanted to play Bobbing for Snapple.
The Devil must have read my mind, which is one of his many scary talents, because he quickly snatched two bottles out of the cooler and replaced the lid.
“I don’t want you drowning in there. I know you’re not much of a swimmer,” he said with an ominous chuckle as he handed me my frosty beverage.
I immediately applied the Snapple to my forehead and held it there until my body temperature had decreased by about forty degrees.
“It’s hot as Hell…” I mumbled before I removed the cap and chugged half the bottle.
“That’s why you need an air conditioner, genius,” Lucifer snickered as he turned his attention to the Sunday paper. “This is one problem in your life that you can actually rectify quite easily. Why do you refuse to do so?”
The Prince of Darkness was correct. My plate was overflowing with problems at the moment, and for some reason, I was choosing to ignore the simple solution to one of them. What the Hell was wrong with me?
“You don’t like change and you’re petrified of making any decision that involves spending a substantial amount of money,” Satan told me without looking up from the article he was reading.
That sounded right. Typical Austin in fact. How I’d gotten this far in life without constant supervision was a miracle unto itself.
But why had my house guest made that comment? Was he reading my mind again?
“Yes, I was,” The Devil answered. “Can you keep it down over there? I am trying to read the paper.”
I just closed my eyes, cleared my exhausted mind of any thoughts, and chugged the rest of my Snapple…
It’s too hot to do anything more than follow me on Pinterest…