“Bald,” I replied without turning my attention away from my book.
“You are hilarious,” Lucifer quipped as he shot me a dirty look. “Seriously, what do you think of that look?”
I sighed and glanced over at him. As usual, he was dressed in an impeccably tailored suit, was far more handsome than any man deserved to be, and had a head of thick black hair that was perfectly slicked back.
“You’d look weird,” I told him without a hint of guilt. “What’s brought about this sudden desire to go all chrome dome?”
“I saw Patrick Stewart on Stephen Colbert’s show the other night, and he just looked so darn distinguished and handsome,” The Prince of Darkness squealed like a super fan. “He’s a knight, you know. And such an amazing actor.”
“You’re freaking me out,” I admitted and then took a very long sip of Snapple while I studied my guest.
“Why do you find this to be so strange?” Satan queried. “There’s nothing unusual about wanting to change one’s look.”
“But the thing is, you don’t really look like that,” I pointed out. “That’s the human form you’ve chosen to take. It’s like you attended a Lakers game in the 80s and decided that Pat Riley was the perfect human specimen.”
“Your mockery only supports my argument that I should go with the shaved head look,” The Devil countered.
“But I have the ability to change my face to look like anyone I want,” Lucifer reminded me.
“Ah, so you’ll go around as Patrick Stewart’s identical twin trying to get people to sign away their eternal souls?” I shot back at him. “Let me know how that works out.”
The Prince of Darkness was clearly flustered.
“Why Lex Luthor?” he demanded. “I could see to it that I don’t resemble any incarnation of that character from movies, television, or the comics!”
I shook my head as I took another long sip of Snapple…not because I was thirsty, but because I liked to see him suffer a little.
“It won’t matter,” I explained. “You’ve just got an evil vibe to you. When people see a bald man and sense evil, they immediately assume it’s Lex Luthor.”
“This is an utterly ridiculous conversation,” Satan protested as he ran his hand over his lustrous head of hair.
“I could’ve told you that right from the start,” I said with a chuckle. “You’re incredibly vain, and it would upset you the second someone gave you a sideways glance because you were bald. I guarantee it.”
“Every summer when I was a kid, as soon as school ended, my stepmother would take me to the barber for a crew cut,” I mumbled. “I hated it and the other kids would tease me all summer. As if I weren’t already picked on enough. They’d rub my head and yell ‘I wish I had a watermelon’. It was very disturbing, and to this day, I steal can’t eat watermelon.”
“You are a very odd duck, Austin,” Lucifer concluded as he picked up the Sunday paper again.
“At least I’m not a bald duck,” was the best I could muster in return.
Just another relaxing Sunday at The House on the Hill…
Follow me on my blog and on Pinterest, and I’ll make sure my stepmother doesn’t send an ancient Italian barber to shave your head!