A.G.E's Joint

Since it’s been a while since I wrote a Devil’s Quill piece, it will help if you read this first. http://anothergovernmentemployee.blogspot.com/2016/03/new-employee-orientation-blogophila-39.html ********************************************************************************** [Back in the conference room outside Dallas, Tx. Marty is nattily dressed in a red blazer with a gold open collared shirt. He steps up to podium and looks out at the junior demons. A wicked grin spreads across his face] Good Day, Everyone. Please settle down. [With a quick clearing of the throat, a puff of smoke quickly surrounds his head.] If you don't remember, my name is Marty Mammon and I have been assigned as the lead instructor for your Devil's Quill training. Every have their manuals? Good. Can't be a good Demon Troll without the play book. [A projection screen slides down behind him. With a clicker, he begins a PowerPoint show] Over the next several sessions, we will demonstrat

“Chris....CHRIS! Breathe!” The words echoed along the sides of my head. Colors turned from green to brown to black. Blacker than any night I had ever encountered. Breath ebbed and flowed involuntarily. Pale lavender edges formed at the edges only to be replaced with the out of focus slits from before. Daylight? Something damp drug across my face. Slowly, the Blue man came into focus with a worried expression. The image shattered as the van door open and slam shut, as if a pebble had been tossed into a pond. A couple of muffled voices whispered something about what are you doing here. Suddenly, the girl from the band appeared in the center of the slit, the mass of pink lace partially covered with a red flannel shirt. Putting a purple tipped hand on his Dave’s shoulder, she whispered in his ear. “He’s cute when he’s passed out. Maybe if I play Princess Charming, Cinderella here will wake up.” Myke sat with a worried expression in a chair next to the window. I couldn’t hear Da

The effects of the wool didn’t take long. Within five minutes, my eyes were slits in rubber balloons. Myke guided me to a small couch in the van and put a pillow under my head. I could sort of see the outline of a lamb, but was it really? I’ve had reactions where I imagined I was at some witch’s gingerbread house out the woods. This was one of those. The back of my throat began to swell. From what looked like the other side of the world, I heard Dave growl. “We’ve got to get you to a hospital, Chris. Your breathing is getting shallow. Suddenly, I remembered something. I managed to croak out a few words. “In my left jacket pocket. Epi...” The room faded out. Or more like I went through door to another reality. I was in the forest coming up on the same wood hut as before. It couldn’t be missed, standing as it was against the neon green of the ground. Next to it was a slightly heavy woman with straight red hair in a chair. There was a magical twinkle in her hazel eyes as she

All I could do was shake my head. Bo Peep wasn’t the only one into sheep, although Blue Dude wasn’t exactly a willing participant. This was getting good. There had to be more. I feel like a fish looking at a piece of bait, Geraldo Rivera in Al Capone’s vault. Over on the dance floor, Beasley and the lady were leaving hand in hand, silly grins on their faces an heart lights glowing. Grabbing a bicycle, She hopped on the handlebars and they rode into the setting Blue Moon. They made me uncomfortable, though. Too much in my face with the affection. Karaoke had ended and a goth punk band, The Chrysanthemums , had taken the stage. The group consisted of a short fat girl and three homeless dudes. Her assets were barely contained in a rainbow dress with lace fringe. The boys dressed in all black with dreads matching the dress. It took me back to the 1990’s, kind of. And like the 1990’s, the group played for beer because they weren’t good enough for money. Chunky chick, alternated