over at Lizard, he nodded. What could it hurt? Nothing. Maybe the badass wasn’t a dumbass. Possible but doubtful.
Murry took the letter in his tiny hands and raised it to his nose. The sounds he made as he smelled it rivaled a ravenous Hell Hound at feeding time. It was enough to make me never touch the paper again. However, it was evidence. I’d simply make Lizard hold it.
“Whoever wrote it is of Demon persuasion. The letter comes from Hell,” Murry said then froze as the front door slammed shut. “Shee-ot! Hide.”
Lizard dove under a table. I glanced around the room in annoyance and squatted behind a chair. This was preposterous. I was the fucking Satan. But the fact the badass-dumbass could tell the threatening letter had been penned by a Demon and came from Hell was more information than I had five minutes ago. If the imbecile wanted me to hide, I’d hide.
“Murry, honey,” his mother called down the stairs. “Ya got some friends over?”
“Umm… no, Mammy,” he lied.
“I call bullshit,” the little old lady shouted. “I’m gonna make some beans-n-franks! I’m so excited ya finally got ya some buddies. All the neighbors think yer a serial killer. I’ll be right down. Does anyone need a trim?”
“Hell to the NO,” Murry yelled.
“Wonderful! I’ll get my inner fire stoked,” she squealed.
“Dangit,” Murry muttered. “Sorry, guys. Mammy’s a little hard of hearin’ too. Keep yer hands over yer nuts when she comes down.”
“Wait,” I said, standing up and squinting at Murry. “Why are we hiding?”
Again, Murry got terribly confused. “No clue.”
It was time to leave. I didn’t want to have to decapitate an old woman with a cane. “Can you tell me who wrote the letter?” I asked tersely.
“Nope,” Murry said. “I’d have to go to Hell and do a little sniffin’ around.”
I almost laughed when I realized he meant it literally.
“Fine. That can be arranged. Do you need to read the letter?”
Murry blushed a deep blotchy red and stared at his feet. His skinny body shook with embarrassment, and I had to look away. Even Lizard appeared sorry for Murry the badass Dragon who was clearly illiterate. Closing my eyes and letting my head fall back on my shoulders, I sighed—dramatically… very dramatically. The Dragon couldn’t read. Being compassionate wasn’t in my wheelhouse. It gave me hives and didn’t look good for my asshole reputation.
“Lizard, if you ever repeat what you’re about to hear, I will send you on a spa trip with Murry’s Mammy—for a century or twelve. I shall give explicit directions to have your nut hair trimmed multiple times a day. Am I clear?”
“You are, Sire,” Lizard said with a twinkle in his eyes and a hint of a grin on his thin lips.
The bastard behaved as if he knew what I was going to do… How did he know? I wasn’t even sure if I was going to do it. And then I glanced over at Murry the skinny dumbass Dragon who was bald under his mullet due to his mother’s bad nose hair aim. The idiot was three thousand years old and lived in his mother’s basement… and couldn’t read.
Damnit. Ever since I’d become happy, I was losing my edge.
“On your knees,” I directed curtly.
Murry’s eyes grew wide and he did as he was told. The skinny Dragon trembled and bowed his head.
“You get one wish granted,” I said then realized the dolt might wish for a trip to Red Lobster. “I’d suggest you use it wisely.”
“Can I get a hint about the wisely part?” Murry inquired.
Breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth, I counted to ten and went against everything I believed in. Being nice was fucking debilitating.
“Ask me to grant you the power to read,” I ground out, sure I was covered in hives.
“You can do that?” he asked, shocked.
“I’m fucking Satan,” I shouted. “Of course, I can do that.”
“Daayum, you can do that too?” Murry asked, wildly impressed.
“You forgot to add the,” Lizard reminded me.
“I know that,” I hissed and blew up Murry’s coffee table, so that I wouldn’t set him ablaze. “Okay, here’s the deal. Yesssss, I can give you the ability to read. And no, I can’t fuck myself. Although, metaphorically, I’m doing a fantastic job of it. So, ask me fast before I change my mind, Dragon.”
“I wanna know how to read, Oh Great Master of Dark Shit,” Murry said quickly, plastering his face on the floor in respect.