In the name of it’s late and eventually we both want to sleep, I agree to that deal.
“You ever really think about cats?” asked Sam. “You know. Really
think about cats? Like they’re a solid animal, but they act like a fluid and they can expand to fill the space they want to take up…. And
the super-fluffy ones always shock you when they’re wet because they’re all like those hairless skeleton things underneath all that fuzz?”
“WILL. YOU. SHUT. THE FUCK. UP?“ Alex demanded. “It’s eleven fucking fifty pee em. Can we PLEASE go to sleep before fucking tomorrow?”
“Y’know I read somewhere that if you cut a cat’s whiskers short, they get super disorientated?”
“I would sell my soul to make you shut up, right now.”
In an almost cartoony puff of smoke, the Prince of Hell appeared. “That could be arranged.”
“Dude,” said Sam. “Am I high or did you see that too?”
“Okay, fine,” said Alex. “I want to be able to make her,”
she thrust a rude thumb in Sam’s direction, “sleep when I want her to.
Only sleep. No death. No fucking sleep apnea, somnambulance, or talking
in her sleep like she was awake. Just sleep and only sleep. Got it. Oh.
And I want to be able to wake her up, too. No fucking around on that
“…fucking lawyers,” grumbled the devil. “You will
be able to command your friend to sleep. And wake. In return for your immortal soul.”
“Fine. Great. Let’s do this.”
What she got was a clicker that glowed in the dark. Alex immediately added it to her keychain before she tried it out.
“Dude,” said Sam. “Are you really responsible for geese?“
Sam’s head hit her pillow with a satisfying thud.
Peace. Beautiful. Wonderful peace.
“Er,” said the devil. “You do know that your soul is mine to torture for eternity, right?”
“You try bunking with Sam for four years,” sighed Alex as she made herself comfortable. “I’ve already been to hell…”