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smallfandomflshTitle: Notice Board
Author:samuraiter
Fandom: Unholy Heights
Pairing / Characters: The Devil
Rating / Category: Mature / Gen
Word Count: 630
Spoilers: N / A
Summary: The Devil schemes up his next "eviction".
Notes / Warnings: One tongue-in-cheek reference to a similar game.
* * * *
The fact that the Devil enjoyed good weather and sunshine might have surprised his tenants at the Heights. Then again, they never looked askance at the fact that the Devil also happened to be a balding, middle-aged bloke in a cape. Monsters had high standards for all things unusual, at least when they were not sitting on their arses watching TV all day (... and complaining to the Devil about having to pay for cable).
"I might be the Devil," he grumbled as he stood in front of the notice board outside the complex, scratching the back of his leg, "but I'm shite compared to Comcast." He squinted at the postings through his thick glasses, and a yellow Post-It ™ note among them caught his eye. "Oh. What's this, then?" He pulled it off the board and had a look. "The zombies want to get into my house, do they? Well, they've got the wrong place." Not the first time they had made that mistake that week. He thought about investing in plants to handle them, but that was one penny he decided he ought to keep pinching.
"Zombies or not, what're the heroes doing this week?" Those pesky heroes. They seemed to enjoy dying on his doorstep, and it pained him to have to get the power sprayer and wash the blood off the pavement. (Blood made for persistent stains, and heroes never had the courtesy to die on the landscaping instead.) As it happened, one of the flyers mentioned that a fresh band of the buggers had come into the area in search of monsters. "Did they at least bring witches this time? I don't mind those as much." But the picture on the flyer depicted the standard piles of brainless muscles.
"Well, bugger." But, as he often did, the Devil had a notion how not to waste the opportunity. "Hmm. Soon as they show up, I'll get that chicken out and have him die fighting them." The Cheeps, as a species, had never been his favorite tenants. They always managed to overstate their finances, fail to pay their rent, and cause him grief, though they did help to keep his rooms full in a pinch. This one, in particular, though, had overstayed his welcome. "S'ppose I could feed him to the eyeball monster in Room 102, but this is less messy, and it's outside." Getting the last one out of the wallpaper had required a whole day and enough profanity to make escalators run backwards.
He slouched away from the notice board, either picking or scratching his nose, depending on who might be watching from the windows, as he said, to no one, "Couldn't there be monster witches? I wouldn't mind having one of those move in. She could even have an extra eye or two, long as she's got legs for miles." He made his way up the stairs to the second floor, ignoring the creaks that he had decided not to fix.
"Or at least a great pair of tits," he continued to grumble as he returned to his office. "It'd beat having to look at this lot all day. Especially the undead." Papers all over the desk, most of them adverts he had received in the mail over the last week. "Twenty-five percent off a lube job? I don't even have a car." But he did not put in the waste basket, which was already full to overflowing, anyway. "I wonder what's on the TV today?"
And so the Devil, whilst pondering the Hungry Man ™ tray he left in the microwave, sat on his arse, watching TV like so many of his tenants as he waited for heroes to show up and murder the latest Cheep to save him the trouble of filing proper eviction papers.
END.
Author:
samuraiterFandom: Unholy Heights
Pairing / Characters: The Devil
Rating / Category: Mature / Gen
Word Count: 630
Spoilers: N / A
Summary: The Devil schemes up his next "eviction".
Notes / Warnings: One tongue-in-cheek reference to a similar game.
* * * *
The fact that the Devil enjoyed good weather and sunshine might have surprised his tenants at the Heights. Then again, they never looked askance at the fact that the Devil also happened to be a balding, middle-aged bloke in a cape. Monsters had high standards for all things unusual, at least when they were not sitting on their arses watching TV all day (... and complaining to the Devil about having to pay for cable).
"I might be the Devil," he grumbled as he stood in front of the notice board outside the complex, scratching the back of his leg, "but I'm shite compared to Comcast." He squinted at the postings through his thick glasses, and a yellow Post-It ™ note among them caught his eye. "Oh. What's this, then?" He pulled it off the board and had a look. "The zombies want to get into my house, do they? Well, they've got the wrong place." Not the first time they had made that mistake that week. He thought about investing in plants to handle them, but that was one penny he decided he ought to keep pinching.
"Zombies or not, what're the heroes doing this week?" Those pesky heroes. They seemed to enjoy dying on his doorstep, and it pained him to have to get the power sprayer and wash the blood off the pavement. (Blood made for persistent stains, and heroes never had the courtesy to die on the landscaping instead.) As it happened, one of the flyers mentioned that a fresh band of the buggers had come into the area in search of monsters. "Did they at least bring witches this time? I don't mind those as much." But the picture on the flyer depicted the standard piles of brainless muscles.
"Well, bugger." But, as he often did, the Devil had a notion how not to waste the opportunity. "Hmm. Soon as they show up, I'll get that chicken out and have him die fighting them." The Cheeps, as a species, had never been his favorite tenants. They always managed to overstate their finances, fail to pay their rent, and cause him grief, though they did help to keep his rooms full in a pinch. This one, in particular, though, had overstayed his welcome. "S'ppose I could feed him to the eyeball monster in Room 102, but this is less messy, and it's outside." Getting the last one out of the wallpaper had required a whole day and enough profanity to make escalators run backwards.
He slouched away from the notice board, either picking or scratching his nose, depending on who might be watching from the windows, as he said, to no one, "Couldn't there be monster witches? I wouldn't mind having one of those move in. She could even have an extra eye or two, long as she's got legs for miles." He made his way up the stairs to the second floor, ignoring the creaks that he had decided not to fix.
"Or at least a great pair of tits," he continued to grumble as he returned to his office. "It'd beat having to look at this lot all day. Especially the undead." Papers all over the desk, most of them adverts he had received in the mail over the last week. "Twenty-five percent off a lube job? I don't even have a car." But he did not put in the waste basket, which was already full to overflowing, anyway. "I wonder what's on the TV today?"
And so the Devil, whilst pondering the Hungry Man ™ tray he left in the microwave, sat on his arse, watching TV like so many of his tenants as he waited for heroes to show up and murder the latest Cheep to save him the trouble of filing proper eviction papers.
END.
