In a fit of demonic rage, Zagan roared at the demonic
courier, his breath spreading pestilence in a flurry of infernal zymosis.
“Please inform my Lord Lucifer I am the President of
Hell and NOT the proprietor of Zagan’s Demonic Party Shop! If he wants wine for
his infernal soiree he can bloody well summon it up himself. Oh, and tell him if
he gives me that old line about people in Hell wanting more than just ice water
one more time, I WILL make him sorry.”
The courier, scarcely zoic at this point, scuttled off to
deliver the news.
This story was written for the Diabolical Deeds flash fiction challenge hosted by Timony Souler. Each of the five daily installment involves a demon and two obscure words. Today's prompts were: Zagan, zymosis & zoic.
Ah the complications of life as a demon. Definitely made me smile.
ReplyDeleteThough with such a small word limit, the repetition of "demonic" in the first sentence really stood out.
I had trouble figuring out what to do with Zagan and his highly specific powers, so I like your implication the other arch-fiends might take a similar view of his abilities being mostly party tricks.
Laughed out loud - and I emphasise with Zagan! An unreasonable boss is always hard to bear :-)
ReplyDelete