Be My Friend

Chapter 7: Bad Ideas are the Best Ideas

If I were a large, red scaled man (woman?) with horns and fire atop my head what kind of scent would be most pleasing to me?

One of the options was to get a vanilla scented candle named Angel. Although ironic, I'm not too sure a fallen angel would like this kind of sense of humour. Keeping that in mind, I grab it and put it in my basket anyway.

I was stuck between, honey, cherry, and cinnamon, so I ended up putting them all in the basket because I've never been good at making decisions, and I wanted to hurry and get the hell (no pun intended) out of the store. 

I place a box of matches in my basket on the way out of the isle and also grab a bag of Dorito's and popcorn then walk myself over to the till.

The person working yawns once and scans my items. "Why on earth are you up this late?" She asks with a sleepy trace of a smile.

"I plan on inviting someone over," I answer, leaving out the part where I intend on inviting Lucifer himself into my house. Without another word, I pay, thank the worker and leave and drive to the next store. 

•  

I blow out a puff of air and seemingly deflate. Bacardi or Jim Beam? Rum or Whiskey? 

The woman working the till peaks over the cashier desk impatiently. I was getting fed up with myself too, to be honest. Who takes fifteen minutes to pick out a bottle of alcohol? She probably thinks I'm some skid that's up to no good. Okay okay, it's simple I'll just get both, even though I can't really afford it; it's fine. At least no one's going to be bitching at me for it. 

"ID." The woman states monotonously. No 'hi' or 'hello'. I scowl and fish out my wallet. I knew she thought I was a no good teenager. 

•

Nym weaves in between my legs as I attempt to take my shoes off and walk upstairs and down the hall where I pull down the stairs to the attic.

I take a seat in the center of the dark wooden floor and pour myself a glass of Bacardi, almost filling it up to the brim. I take out my candles and set them up in a circle-like shape around myself. I light each one of them and enjoy the diverse scents filling my nostrils. 

I split open the bag of Dorito's and begin writing on a piece of paper what exactly I'll be using as an invitation for the Dark Lord. 

•

"Meow."

I nearly jump out of my skin at the sudden noise but turn around quickly to realize it's only Nym. He comes up beside me and begins bumping his head against my hand, so I stroke her silver fur with my hand.

"Awe, Nym. You precious cat, you nearly gave me a heart attack. How did you get up here?" I ask, distracted by his loud purring. He merely licks my hand. Snapping out of my head and back to the task at hand, I begin writing, but my mind's a little fuzzy so it takes me a bit of time to get started. 

Was this a bad idea? Most definitely. Was I going to do it anyway?

Most definitely.