Care and Fiending by Aeryn Rudel
Ran out of toilet paper. Had to use paper towels. Not recommended. Jerri, my ex, bought toilet paper, the dish soap, and all that other household stuff. So I got in the car and drove to Target. What a dreary fucking place. Just people shuffling from aisle to aisle, pulling disposable, forgettable junk into their carts. I bought the biggest package of TP I could find. I don’t want to have to do this shit (hah!) again anytime soon.
I came home, got stoned, and watched TV. Nothing good on, so I dragged out my copy of Daemons and Their Kinde, drew a pentagram on the kitchen linoleum, and summoned a minor demon. Cute little fella, about a foot tall, with nubby horns, and a mouth full of fangs. I named him Larry.
I put Larry in a terrarium I used to keep my pet lizard in (before I needed its scales for a ritual). I inscribed a binding sigil on the glass in red Sharpie before I went to bed. Can’t be too careful.
Car wouldn’t start. Had to call AAA and have them jump the damn thing. I then drove to the DMV to renew my license, only to be told I had the wrong fucking paperwork. The guy behind the counter was such a dick. All self-important behind his neck beard.
In other news, Larry is getting thin. I forgot you have to feed demons pretty regularly. They eat souls, and I hadn’t thought that through when I summoned the little dude. Demonology and grade-A weed don’t mix.
Daemons and Their Kinde says I need a person’s essence to capture their soul. I figured essence and DNA are kinda the same thing, and as luck would have it, the guy at the DMV shed one of his gnarly beard hairs onto my license renewal form.
Sorry, DMV Dude. Demon’s gotta eat.
Some motherfucker on Reddit had the gall to insist Aliens is a better movie than Alien. What the actual fuck? How does he not realize that Alien is a visual masterpiece, and that Cameron’s green-screen-a-palooza is a pale shadow of its predecessor? The Aliens-lover blocked me. Asshole.
Larry’s looking hungry again. I searched for bits of organic detritus from other folks I’ve interacted with. I scoured fast food bags, the mailbox, and even the stair railings outside my apartment. Nada. Then I got an idea. Could a Reddit handle work the same way as a hair or a fingernail? The spell I used for DMV Dude just says I need a person’s essence, and what’s more part of a person’s essence these days than their social media accounts?
Larry is fat and happy again. Too bad that Reddit asshole went to oblivion still thinking Aliens is better than Alien.
My mother called today. I had to listen to her browbeat me about coming to church. I told her that wasn’t my jam. She got all freaked out about me not believing in God. I told her I absolutely believed in God. I didn’t tell her I just played for the other team. If I did, she’d send Father Gottfried over to my house for an exorcism. Maybe I should have told her. Larry might like to eat a priest.
Speaking of Larry, he has grown a lot. Had to move him out of the terrarium and into the second bedroom. I drew a containment pentagram on the floor to keep him out of trouble. I also got him a few toys to play with—a skull, a dead possum I found in the alley, and a few catnip mice (he love those).
Turns out Reddit has a counter-sorcery division. They blocked my ass with angelic repulsion magic. I’ve had to turn to Facebook to keep Larry fed (I tried X, but as it turns out, bots don’t have souls). Larry’s mostly getting the souls of folks who repost bad memes. That should keep him in chow for a while.
Got stoned while reading Daemons and Their Kinde again. In my pot-addled stupor, I tried to summon a succubus. I’m not proud of it, but a man has needs. I fucked up the ritual because, you know, stoned, and I ended up with another minor demon. I think it’s female, but it’s hard to tell—lots of tentacles on this one. Anyway, I named her Laura and put her in the spare bedroom with Larry.
Now with two demons to feed, I’m really in the shit because Facebook and Instagram employ a pretty good necromancer. The necro’s cyberdemon shut down my account and nearly got my soul to boot. Luckily, I put the Recitation of Valgav in the bios on all my social media accounts. Gives me enough time to delete them and ward them against recovery.
Running out of places to harvest souls.
I think I still have a LinkedIn account.
Larry and Laura hit it off, and I now have two adult demons and three demonlings straining against the containment pentagram in the other room. The souls of corporate recruiters who post AI-generated job listings on LinkedIn proved insufficiently nutritious to feed my growing demonic brood.
They’re starving, and it’s only a matter of time until they break free and go for the nearest edible soul. I could leave, but since I summoned Larry and Co., they’d find me like hound dogs scenting out a raccoon.
I just popped my head into the guest room to check on them. They were sitting there—papa demon, mama demon, and baby demons—staring at me, shark-like teeth exposed in hungry grins.
I better find them something to eat. Fast. Does anybody still use Myspace?
