My Devil and Me

            “Look, we’ve been over this. I’m sick of repeating myself. Christie’s a nice girl, we really dig each other, and I don’t want you pulling any of your shit tonight.”

            “Tonight – she’s coming over? Tonight?”

            “Yeah, she is. I shouldn’t have to explain it, but I don’t want you to be an asshole tonight.”

            “When have I ever been an asshole?!”

            I gave him that look. “You’re the damn devil.”

            My fluffy cat Satan sat on his butt in front of me, his smooth fur colored crimson red, his furry bifurcated tail swinging lazily around him near the floor, looking up at me with those green eyes that sometimes glowed in the dark. Not the way it normally happens with pets, how the light is reflected just right – my cat is Satan, he does some creepy shit where his eyes glow.

            “You know the staring contest doesn’t work.” I said, turning to my small apartment’s kitchen and looked for a local restaurant takeout menu.

            “Sounds like someone could use some nuzzling…” He hopped on the counter to follow.

            “No way.” I answered. His horns were less noticeable, tiny and hidden just behind his ears if you knew where to look. The first time I tried petting him on the head it was like I got a huge papercut on my palm. “Fool me once, shame on you-”

            “More like fool you eighty times, crybaby.” He rolled his eyes.

            “Getting all snuggly in the morning doesn’t count, I’m sleepy and would pet whatever furry little pet came cuddling up.”

            “Guess that’s what Christie sees in you…” Satan drifted as he slowly padded toward the stool.

            “What does that mean?” I turned to him.

            “Oh come on, what could that mean? I dunno how you guys stay on the top of the food chain, really…” Satan curled up on the stool.

            “You know her? Know about her?”

            “Come on. I know a lot about a lot of people, you know that.”

            “Are you saying she’s going to hell and all that? That she’s a bad person?”

            “Well that’s the trick question of the century, ain’t it? Are all the people who go to hell bad, or do all bad people go to hell?...”

            “That’s the same thing!”

            “Is it? Look I don’t think you have all day to play twenty questions about your little girlfriend there, so why don’t you just find out for yourself?” Satan tucked himself into a ball and pretended to sleep.

            “See, this is the crap you pull, now I wanna know!”

            “Know what? If she’s a bad person, or whether the carpet matches the drapes? Those are two different questions – and quite telling about your own personality, I might add.” He gave that contented cat look, eyes shut, head raised, a soft purr.

            “You’re such a dick. I’ll find out both on my own, thanks.” I returned to searching for possible dinner menus. I spotted his cat toys, and grabbed one, sprinkling some catnip on it. He immediately knew it for what it was, and came bounding toward me.

            “What are you doing?” He started, just as I tossed the ball past him. He reached for it and missed as it flew between his little cat paws and his momentum sent him backward where I could hear him hit the floor. “Ah you son of a bitch!”

            Hearing the little bell rattle in the ball, I just smiled as I decided on pizza.