Demons and Deep Dish Pizza


Shoes. That’s all Eva wanted. A kicking pair of shoes for a night out on the town. Instead she ended up with two crazy demons, two dead guys and one deep-dish pizza.

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Demons also function in a very literal way and many times lack any sense of what a normal person would consider logical behavior. Who sits on the floor of a shoe department? Only two demons. That’s who.

With speed that would make any of the demons I already know jealous, both women move to sit beside me without toppling even one box of shoes. “Yes, Master,” they say at the same time.

“First, who are you and what are you doing here?” I can’t help but admire the pink stilettos. 

“You called us,” they say together.

I get up and take two steps to pose in front of the mirror. Yes, I’m well aware I have a situation to deal with, but I did come for shoes so there’s no sense in me not shopping while I address this situation.

I am perfectly capable of multitasking, you know.

I turn to the left and admire my feet. “I didn’t actually call you.” I’ve been trying not to “call” any more of the demons. I really have. I try not to think about the remaining eight, but it’s hard.

It really is. I mean they’re out there, alone and waiting…for me. I hate to feel alone and sad. And then I think about them being alone and frightened and I feel bad.