Drabble: The Devil's white shoes.

“Don’t be such a child,” said the Devil as she took a drag from her cigarette. “I didn’t make you do this.” She stepped over the broken ruin of my Margaret, the congealing blood on the floor moving away from the Devil’s immaculate white shoes. “Humans are nothing but primal urges and traumas carefully nurtured over time by friends and family into crazed little hate machines, contained only by their better angels.” She bent forward, her eyes burning as brightly as her cigarette. “I’m just the angel that will never tell you no.”

And I took her hand to hell. 

100/100 24

The podcaster glowered at his guest from across the table. The comedian nervously adjusted his tie, the white fabric with pink polka dots a reminder of better times.

"I never understood you as an act. I could never figure out if you were playing it straight with the jokes, or that this was some sort of Andy Kaufman homage where the audience was supposed to hate you. I just look into those eyes and feel like i'm not talking to the real you. Comedians are supposed to be truth-tellers, and you're so artificial. "

Fozzie waggled his ears in desperation.

100/100 23

We all sat together, inebriated on cheese and cheap wine, flipping through the DVDs trying to find something that would signify the closing of the year. We gave up and selected the one that all of us had memorized, providing a soundtrack to our final celebration. All of us, actors, painters, producers, and writers, watched the minutes go by, bracing ourselves for the tomorrow that held our hopes and fears. Each of us at that moment wanted this year to be -the- year, and the television uttered a single line as the clock struck midnight.

"The hammer is my penis."

100/100 -22-

The envelope lay next to the razor. Elise had given him the envelope a year ago, before she’d disappeared. One day, she’d said, he would follow her on the journey. The moment it became too much, she’d said pleadingly, he had to read the message. Wiping his eyes, he cut open the envelope. A small introduction card fell out, written in her beautiful script.

“Have you considered going mad instead?”

He laughed. And the tears that fell didn’t stop the laughter. The razor dropped like a swan’s fart in his hands as the melody of Elise’s voice echoed in platinum.

100/100 -21-

The son held the mask in his hands, looking as if he were about to throw up.
“-You’re- Captain Awesome?!?”

His father nodded, smiling. His son had grown, becoming more a reflection of his own youthful days.

“Yes, I felt it was time…”

“But you –can’t- be. You don’t understand…”

The father nodded, pulling out a small pile of ‘Captain Awesome and Lightning Lord’ slash comics. His son looked just about ready to die.

“I found these in your room…And thought it was time for both of us to have an honest conversation.”

And in time, both of them laughed.

100/100 -20-

“And he can punch through steel, and he can fly and he protects the city!” The boy sat with his dad in the main room of their tiny apartment. He held his brand new Captain Awesome figurine like a cherished treasure.

His father smiled, watching him play. “So what’s his secret identity?”

“No one knows. I bet he’s some kind of super-scientist or billionaire!”

“You know what I think? I think he’s just some hard-working guy who tries to juggle taking care of a kid on his own with his pledge for justice.”

“That’s silly, daddy.”

His father smiled indulgently.

100/100 -19-

The alchemist sat glumly on the stone floor tapping at the edge of the chalk circle. It’s not that he didn’t want to leave, but his legs just didn’t want to go past the edge. Beyond the ring were walls that operated two dimensions further than his eyes allowed, painted in the chartreuse of madness. A demon sat in a chair, grinning, the layers of his teeth grinding against each other. It rubbed between its tentacles a lock of the alchemist’s hair.

“Well?” Said the alchemist impatiently.

“I just wanted you to see what it felt like,” said the demon.

100/100 -18-

The intern stared up the length of the Chase Tower, swallowing. The curve of it swept up high past the Loop.

“I can’t do this.”

“Put your hands on the building. What do you see?”

The intern leaned forward, staring up the length of the concrete, his heart racing. The curve of the building created a false perspective. He was no longer looking up, but forward.

“All magic is perspective. Find a point, change your perspective, and act.”
The moon passed over the edge of the tower.

The intern stretched, pressing his foot on the concrete.

“RUN TO THE MOON!”

100/100 -17-

Red chip.

Blue chip.

Bad boy.

Good Boy.

The chips are counted every single week.

Red Boy gets the belt. Beaten within an inch of his life.

Blue boy gets an M&M.

Start again next week.

Red Boy gets chips for being girly. For loving his mother. For being kind.

Blue Boy gets chips for being tough. For playing with trucks. For swallowing tears.

The Chips rise and fall.

Only Red Boy.

Only Blue Boy.

Mother and father are afraid of Pink Boy.

Doctors say this will work.

The chips will keep him in line.

‘No one was obviously harmed’.

100/100 -16-

“Can I keep it?”

He stared at the thing on the floor, cheerfully enveloping half of a sneaker. It moved like a protoplasm, but was covered in soft russet fur. He tried poking at it, but it wobbled threateningly. His daughter, though, was able to pick it and the shoe up without a problem, while it burbled and bubbled. She smiled down at it so possessively, almost threateningly. He swallowed down his fear. All the ‘raising a mad scientist’ books said this was a possibility. Preteens vacillated between science and madness. There really was only one solution:

“Ask your mother.”

100/100 -15-

“It’s a tough trick,” said the magician, rolling his sleeves. “Most people use a wax bullet. Palm a bullet in the mouth, when the bullet is fired, it disintegrates in the air, and you pretend to catch it in your teeth. Mine requires more skill. Control the powder, reduce the velocity, and time it –just- right…”

“But that wasn’t the bullet tonight.”

The magician nodded, kicking the assistant as he lay dead on the floor. “I lost a lot of teeth getting it right. Replaced them with steel. He made his play, and all I had to do was smile.”

100/100 -14-

She sat on the edge of the lagoon, wiping her eyes, looking down at the paperwork. Twenty months of waiting, and it all came down to a single piece of paper, stamped, sealed and signed. She had been to court, she pleaded her case. A rabbit hopped over to her, nudging a daisy.

“You can always reapply.” Said the rabbit. “This isn’t the only court, and you –are- a refugee. Nearly anyone from your home is a refugee. It’s why you all come here.
She nodded sadly, her antennae bobbing. “That’s the problem. Every fairy has been chased by dragons.”

100/100 -13-

She stared at the blank sheet of paper. She tried to open its secret with music, chiming spheres, and countless cans of red bull. But her clock read that she’d been at this too long, and she would have to face the consequences. She scribbled a sentence, stuffed it in her bag, and cycled it over to her Faculty Advisor. She stormed the office and thrust it in the advisor’s hands, who waved her out of the room. The next day, an envelope appeared in the mail, containing her single page:

‘Let There Be Light’.

Underneath, in red pen: ‘Good.’

100/100 -12-

The spring rains had ended, and the forest of the Great Valley bloomed. Coyotes wandered, stalking the peacocks as they made their mating calls. Palms grew with conifers, and fresh flowering plants grew through the cracks in the vast grids of asphalt. Vines covered the towers as swallows made their nests. Wild sage grew upon the hills facing the valley, as bobcat mothers taught their kittens to hunt. All around the Great Valley, Nature was at peace.

And with a grunt and a groan, the last zombie in the world collapsed from starvation at the corner of Hollywood and Vine.

100/100 -11-

“And three…Two…One…Awaken.”

Farmer Ben blinked several times as the audience laughed, and the hypnotist helped him up off the chair. They laughed and cheered when he got on his overalls, and picked up his pitchfork. He chewed on his tobacco, peering in the dark. He saw feathered shapes in the dark, the laughter transforming into clucking. Hundreds of chickens were laughing at him, drinking their chicken drinks, and putting on airs. No god damned chicken was going to laugh at him as he took the pitchfork to them.

The hypnotist sighed. This was why you didn’t break from the script.

100/100 -10-

Talafiara, the queen of the fairies, sat alone in the marble garden atop the Harold Washington library. At every corner of the building, the great Bronze Owls searched the city and beyond. Beneath her, the amassed knowledge of the world was stacked in half a dozen layers, hovering over a glyph that contained the city’s past and future. Her guards wandered the stacks disguised as hipsters and the homeless. She bit the nail of her thumb as she curled tighter on her throne, eyes searching every entrance. She might return. The girl who said fairies were nonsense. She just might…

100/100 -9-

The tiny sprite within the glass danced in emerald joy, sailing in and out of sight as the liquid poured. She beckoned to all at the table, enticing, enchanting. She was the gateway to inspiration, and music, or so the mortals believed. Her heart was wormwood, and her true gifts were madness and death. The icy water flowed over her, clouding her skin, as her power awakened. But the sweetness, the enticement…Was off. It burned her. Her louched countenance withered and shrieked in anguish.

“What on earth are you doing?!?”

“Splenda. Can’t have real sugar. Shouldn’t affect the taste much.”

100/100 -8-

“So what went wrong?”

“Nothing! I swear! The doll was made from the finest porcelain, fired in the tradition of the great alchemists, painted with the wishes of little girls, and the tears of the women they would become. The glass of her eyes were made from the sands of time. Her hair was threaded gold. The mechanisms within formed the essences of the tree of life, the jewels fixing them in place were iterations of chakras. She would have been a living automaton. A perfect daughter.”

“And the winding mechanism?”

“Grenade timer. Do you think that was the problem?”

100/100 -7-

“What’s on the menu?”

“All sorts of good things. Fox oden, Nine demon soup…”

The intern looked down at the menu, Trying to read the characters next to the prices. It didn’t help that they kept shifting on the page as he tried to read them.

“Isn’t this the Nine Demon Café?”

“Yep. Run by nine demons.”

“Are they…”

“Slow barbecued, coated in a sweet sauce, and served with noodles in broth? Oh yes. One of the benefits of being immortal. You can use your own body as ingredients.”

The intern paled.

“It’s rare that something really is magically delicious.”

100/100 -6-

“Lolita!”

“Been there.”

“Fairy Kei!”

“Too fluffy.”

“Guro!”

“Well…”

“What?”

“The hardest part of any fashion, especially when you put it out online, is finding a look you like, and getting enough pieces and practice to make that look your own. By the time you get it right, everyone’s doing something else. I remember spending months building a carousel top-hat, only for everyone think they were passé by the time I was done. So, rather than work on my own image, I thought I’d take one from someone established.”

“How?”

“With a scalpel.”

“Wow. How does she look on you?”