Lizard adjusted his beret as his unibrow wrinkled in thought. I was thinking too. I was thinking of a way to get around the promise of not disemboweling Sogdroth. Where there was a will there was always a way.
“Got it, my liege,” Lizard said with a grin.
I was terrified with good reason. Lizard was as strange as they came. If he brought up booking, I’d have to decapitate the Demon. He’d overshared a while back about a hobby called booking where one acquired a large, thick, hard-backed tome and then slammed one’s manhood in it. Repeatedly. It was not my idea of a good time. However, to be fair, I had suggested getting the hair waxed off our groins then posting it on the internet.
Lizard spoke. I held my breath.
“Back in the day I used to go with a few buds to England for Cooper’s Hill Cheese Rolling,” he explained with a wistful expression. “Damn good time.”
I waited. I knew there was more. There was always more.
“Ahh,” Lizard said, pulling the tab on another beer. “It involves chasing an enormous wheel of cheese as it rolls down a steep hill. Nothing like it. The salty breeze off the moor blowing your hair back as you hold your mate’s hand and outrun the fat, pasty British bastards. The sound of the cheddar as it squishes and squeaks while bouncing over rocks and people who didn’t get out of the way quickly enough is almost as good as a Big O. The feeling of pride when you and your bestie dive upon the gelatinous wheel and take the first bite. Glorious.”
We sat in silence and stared at each other.
Lizard broke the awkward quiet. “You mean a friend like that?”
“Umm… no. Not exactly,” I said, squinting at the insane man. For some reason, I wanted Lizard to be my friend. Sogdroth has said being open was the way to go. Soooo, I decided it was time to come clean about a hobby I’d secretly been indulging in for decades. “Actually, I was thinking more like a comrade to come up with elaborate schemes to appear deceased in public places. Then once in the ambulance, come back to life and freak people out, possibly cause a heart attack or two.”
I watched as he considered the activity. “Could we wait until we’re in the morgue and then come back to life when we’re being examined by the forensic pathologist?”
I nodded, impressed. It was genius. Maybe having a real friend could be fun.
“Outstanding!” I announced. “We shall go to NYC at once and play dead. You in, friend?”
Popping his wad of gum back into his mouth, the Demon gave me a thumbs up. “I’m in. But it’s Tuesday. I say we wait until Friday. More people in Times Square.”
“Hmm,” I said, mulling the plan. “I see how that might be more invigorating. Friday it is!”
Lizard’s cell rang. A drawing of Martha and Jane popped up on the screen. The sketched interpretation of the old hags was far superior than a photo would have been. Since they were undead, they didn’t show up in photos or mirrors or on video. Small mercies were indeed kind. My new BFF took the call. I could hear the pains in my ass yacking it up while Lizard barely got a word in. He didn’t seem to mind. The man just smiled and chuckled. Love was very, very, very blind. If I had to listen to Martha and Jane on a daily basis for the rest of my life, I’d be forced to rip their tongues out and shove them up their bony asses. Again, small mercies.
“Love you too, you sexy gals,” Lizard said as he hung up.
Sogdroth had impressed upon me that in order to have a friend, I had to ask questions about their lives and stop talking only about myself. I wasn’t convinced this was true. I was a riveting subject to discuss. But Sogdroth had been correct about opening up. I had a playdate in Times Square on Friday to prove it.
Here went nothing. “You have a nice cell phone, Lizard,” I said casually. “Do you like it?”
“Yep,” he answered. “Stole the latest model last week. The camera is excellent.”
“Ahh,” I said, knowing I should inquire about his mates. My ass puckered and I wondered if I could do it without insulting the shit out of the nasty old nightmares. I was Satan. I could do anything… “So, friend, was that a productive conversation with the hookers?”
“Loves of my life?” he corrected with a chuckle.
“Sure,” I said, doing my damnedest not to gag. “Let’s go with that.”
“Fantastic,” he said, putting a fresh piece of gum into his mouth to add to the massive wad already there. “They got their boobs done!”
“I’m sorry what? They’re dead. Didn’t think that was possible.”
“Me neither, but my gals are fucking nuts.” He threw his head back and laughed. I was shocked he didn’t choke on his gum. “But… I do think there’s something you need to know.”
My eyes narrowed. That didn’t sound good. “Out with it.”
“Alrightyroo,” he said, topping off my bourbon. “You know how you said that Vamps are pussies and they have it easier than Demons?”
“I do,” I replied with an eye roll. “It’s true.”
“Yep, well, that got back to Astrid.”
