Whoops. Seemed to have summoned a demon from the netherworlds.
As you do.

I was perusing a bookshop t'other day (one that might sell wet pebbles) and found an interesting book on demonology. Not something that I ever found any previous interest in, but the book captivated me. Twas weird, it was. But I bought it, and went home.

So looking through it, I found a chapter on Summonings. This was a really bad fucking idea. My good Catholic mother didn't raise me to summon evil forces from the nethermost pits of hell - that's what my brother was for. But again. I felt an odd compulsion to carry out a summoning.

Now, a Summoning is easier than you think. You need chalk (ELC), candles (IKEA tealights) and obviously a bell (front doorbell) and a book - well I do have my confirmation bible, so we're all set.

So anyway, I am set up. Have gone into the kitchen, marked out the squiggly lines as per the instruction manual, and put my tongue through the kind of workout that the Swedish Lesbian Olympic Cunnilingus team usually perform as a warmup.

The air went cold. A deathly breeze came through the kitchen.














And fuck all happened. I closed the patio door and went to bed, disgusted.

That night, I lay dreaming, wondering why I hadn't summoned a demon.

OH BUT YOU DID

My testicles retracted into my body. Fuck knows how I managed not to void myself all over the bed. The voice came straight into my skull, not through my ears. As if it was in my mind already.

"Who...who are you?" I timidly asked.

MY NAME, HUMAN, IS IMPRONOUNCABLE IN YOUR TONGUE. I AM CALLED OLXZZZGNUGAGAGVNYRRR, BUT YOU CAN CALL ME...OLIVER. I SHALL BE HERE SOME TIME

So I had really fucked up this time. I now have my own private demon. I would walk down the road and cars would crash into each other. My holiday to New York in September 2001 was slightly spoilt. Grannies would drop dead of heart attacks as I passed.

I

Was

Fucked.



By now, I looked like Gollum with scurvy. My hair was lank and my skin was the colour of dead fish. I never left my house. I gave up work. Everywhere I went, everything I did, Oliver was there.

One day I could take it no longer. I'd already tried the exorcism page in the book. I felt my own actions were becoming less and less under my control, so I banged on the door of my local church. The priest came out and gave me one look and nearly recoiled in horror. He grabbed his rosary for protection.

"Dear God, child. What's happened."

"Demon...inside...please exorcise me."

The priest dragged me in. Luckily, Fr Michael O'Meara (any name that Irish should come with its own sack of potatoes) was an expert in demonology. He set up a bell, book and candle and performed an emergency exorcism (is there another kind). The lights flashed and eventually exploded, shards of glass flying across the room. Our faces were cut and blooded, but we didn't notice.

Suddenly a feeling like a firework went off in my skull and again I heard the eldritch voice.

YOU MAY DEFEAT ME HUMAN, BUT MY WATCHERS WILL BE KEEPING AN EYE ON YOU EVER MORE. JUST ONE SLIP, AND YOU'RE MINE. (Oh by the way, your mum sucks cocks in Hell. Sorry, it's a contractual thing.)

Both me and the priest collapsed to the floor.

"Thank God for that" said the priest. "It was only a minor demon. Much more and we'd have been goners."

I thanked him profusely from the bottom of my heart (and later from the heart of my bottom).

I know I'm free, but I also know that Oliver is out there still, waiting for me. And I can feel his watchers constantly looking at me, watching for any slipup.

You see, I have to be careful of Imp Ol's spies.
( Undercovercarrot got done for gross misconduct on..., Thu 21 May 2009, 21:58, 12 replies)

Oh good lord
*spang!*
(Potty Jag har smör i min rumpspringa, Thu 21 May 2009, 21:59, closed)

Convoluted.
And quite clickable.
(anvil, Thu 21 May 2009, 22:24, closed)

Swedish Lesbian Olympic Cunnilingus team
You would of course get a click just for that.
(icassu, Thu 21 May 2009, 22:58, closed)

Ta
Happy b3taday by the way!
( Undercovercarrot got done for gross misconduct on..., Fri 22 May 2009, 4:21, closed)

*writhes with punning pain*

( weaver., Thu 21 May 2009, 22:58, closed)

What an inventive pun.
Clicked!
( Noeli overtheshoulderboulderholderthingstraplatchboobs, Fri 22 May 2009, 8:01, closed)

Excellent
work Sir!!! gets my click, you click whore, you.
( SpankyHanky, Fri 22 May 2009, 8:12, closed)

Top Marks
Most entertaining, even without the last line!
(Kliper Filllets Getting noticed by twats on the internet since, Fri 22 May 2009, 10:15, closed)

Oh dear...
SPANG! and *click*
(berk, Fri 22 May 2009, 10:16, closed)

You fucking arse
You are an unutterable bastard.

I was reading that, thinking 'what a fucking twat' why waste so much story telling skill on fucking up the QOTW.

And then I got to the last line.

You are still a fucking arse, but for much better reasons than I thought.

Clicked. Of course.
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Fri 22 May 2009, 16:59, closed)

I knew it was coming....
but I couldn't work out how or why.

You sir, are a bell-end.


click.
(TheColonel, Sat 23 May 2009, 13:41, closed)

Epic
and wondrous.
( mrlogic is copying your beard, Tue 26 May 2009, 16:36, closed)