Wednesday, October 19, 2005

Coffee with the Devil. (chapter 4)

Seething, I walked all the way back home. Those fuckers. What the hell did they have to go and do that for? What is wrong with some kids using a vacant space for recreation? By using the building, don't we show more respect for it than by leaving it empty? Fuck rights of property. Property also means having a certain responsibility to care for an item, or person, or building. Neglect is the very worst thing you can do. Worse than mistreatment.

My head was going on and on like this, as the first birds started their intensely annoying songs. It had been a good party, until the door was wrecked (at least we had had the courtesy of just picking the lock), and all hell broke loose. Dogs ran wild, the soundsystem got smashed, people got arrested and beaten for no reason. I was able to make a narrow escape, through some broken window, somewhere up and in the back.

Too hyped to sleep yet, I made tea, and flopped down on my couch. First Sunday sunlight trickled filthily through the window, and I yanked the curtains closed, angrily. I sat there for some time, petting my cat and smoking cigarettes, until my doorbell rang.

Great. It was the Devil. I just nodded, and turned around, trumping back to my living room. I heard the door click shut, and she followed.

"Good morning!" she chirped. I just looked away from her. "What?" she asked.
"Why are you here?"
"Thought you might need some cheering up."
"I don't."
She chuckled.
"What are you doing here?"
"And good morning to you too," she said, raising one eyebrow.
"Not in the mood, sorry. Any particular reason?"
She chuckled. "Look at you."
"What you mean?"
"All anger, frustration, knotted up."
"It's been an intense night."
"What, your party got busted by the cops? Poor baby." The sarcasm dripped off her as she pinched my cheek. "Not the first time, right?"
"No. But it still pisses me off, the way they act."
"I don't think it's just that."
"Oh?"
"Nope." She grinned, obviously enjoying herself for some reason unknown to me.
"Care to inform me as well?"
"Maybe later. You hungry?" She revealed a white paper bag and pulled two croissants out.
"No."
"I still think you should eat."
"Later." I sighed.

She took a bite, and stared at her croissant for a while, musing. She murmured softly to herself: "Still, beats me what the Muslims want with it. The Ottomans have been gone for a while now." She turned to me, then.

"Interesting shape, don't you think?"
I didn't answer, being preoccupied with being irritated by her presence and current events.
"The crescent moon. Croissant-Lune. At least as interesting as her full face, if not more."
"Why?"
"Well, with a full moon, you kind of know what you can expect, right? Same as a new one."
"That's your moon, right? New moon, trickster moon?"
"Please. Next thing you're gonna tell me you actually believe in astrology."
"So what's so interesting about the crescent, then?"
"Ambiguity. Nuance. Close to darkness, but not quite. Makes you see things in a different light. "
"But you just said it doesn't have any actual influence on people."
"No, I said that the new moon isn't assigned to me, or anyone for that matter. That's not to say that people can't believe that it has some sort of mystical significance. Belief is a strong thing, you know."
"... Okay... so these things do have influence?"
"Only if people want to. As with everything, you know. Me and mine, we're not even really needed. People just want us to be, so here we are."
"Yeah, about that 'we'..."
"Hmm?"
"This girl."
She smiled. "Ah, there we go."
"What's it about her?"
"You smitten?"
"I don't know. She's done something. Left an impression."
"Obviously."
"So... is she... like you?"
"No... I've been wondering too, though. But I can assure you she's quite human. Very much so. "
"So what do you think about her?"
" I don't know, actually. She's... different. Interesting."
"Interesting?"
"In need of change, so interesting for me."
"... Like me?"
She laughed. "Oh yeah."
"You think I'm stuck, then?"
"I don't know. Do you think so?" She grinned.
"Fuck off. I don't need any Socratic shite now."
"You don't? Why?" She kept grinning, and took a cigarette from my pack.
"Look, miss Tricksy. I'm really not in the mood for you now."
She clapped her hands, once, and laughed again. It was a laugh reminiscent of a coyote's yapping howl across a moonlit prairie, of a spider's chuckle, a raven's mocking screech.
"What? Fuck off."
"You like her, don't you? I know you do."
I frowned, and lit a cigarette, taking deep drags. "I don't know. Yes, I think so. You know why?"
"Yes, but I'm going to let you work out that one on your own."
"Thought as much."
"Anyways... she has something in common with me, I think. We both exist only for our surroundings."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Well... " She thought about that. By now, I was less irritated, just curious about this other girl. Then, she shook her head. "Nah, I'm not going to tell you. You'll meet her again, before you see me."

She got up. "You should get some sleep, kid. See ya later." And like that, she left. I fell asleep on the couch one cigarette later.

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