Tactless Felicity Walker
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Warwick Doop looked at the giant record in his hands and felt cross.
He walked over to the window and reflected on his industrial surroundings. He had always loved grey Chicago with its abundant, amused arches. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel cross.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Felicity Walker. Felicity was a tactless monster with curvaceous fingers and greasy arms. She walked towards Warwick at a fast pace so as not to attract attention from anyone she might find unappealing – which meant pretty much everyone. For some reason, this woman did not draw his immediate admiration either.
Why should it be? A thousand similar creatures filled Chicago’s streets daily; no man needed any particular one more than another! If a demon attracted him by her form only…well then what use could such an abomination possibly have?
Her appearance seemed to convey neither joy nor kindness but mere bloody-mindedness. Once Warwick discovered these things were just as satisfying for demons too he lost all interest in finding out who actually came under his armfuls of smiles.
Felicity called urgently through grime: “The rest are doing better without me around.” Felicity stared with eyes like the horizon every time you stood beside your lover, knowing there would be no satisfaction at the end other than the pleasure derived from those days when you can say anything about anyone else because it is really true.
She strode into Warwick’s arms while he stifled feelings he rarely bothered acknowledging; emotions like envy and jealously – only it turned out that Felicity had absolutely no reason for being jealous as soon enough he wouldn’t want any demon near him now they had betrayed him after months and months of pretending to enjoy Warwick’s company in pubs, cafes…hell everywhere…but sadly before a lot of drinks.
Worse still none of them had enjoyed even close encounters during their forced friendship and constant pretense was turning increasingly embarrassing.
They didn’t look up when you left but some nasty glances were exchanged across corners while waiting for public transport, hoping at least someone would return with a plausible excuse why they hadn’t got back earlier or sooner so they didn’t make asses of themselves.
But Warwick refused pointlessly to complain. No need really he found it more annoying himself since people he met couldn’t help pointing out how disappointed in the group they were looking less forward to their meetings if Warwick continued to dither about working hard at home to prepare his pitches.
There was nobody quite as sickly as a hungry, cold successful freelancer. You try convincing everybody it makes perfect sense to pay others for everything, especially given most likely there will never again ever be a proper holiday and lots of hours spent trying unsuccessfully not to appear too proud of your work lest it turn sour overnight from indifference due to sheer boredom when you don’t like going places anyway and no matter how many millions come in eventually it doesn’t stop your anxiety for another disaster when next month turns bad, therefore it has nothing to do with having achieved fame or success!
But few demons wanted that kind of excitement, who would wish on anybody the worries associated with each new piece of luck? What business could Warwick possibly have in buying groceries with human money anyway unless he expected to put down roots once he bought up properties?
Wouldn’t a smart thing be to save up ahead of time – perhaps several times, then sell to other devils and become rich in currency too although presumably, the very act of taking funds from devil’s evil hoards by fair means or foul counted against a person rather than attracting angels! Hellishly ironic wasn’t it?
Who cares whether or not Warwick had read Milton before, or enjoyed Shakespeare?!
On reflection, demons wondered why it mattered as long as people believed he knew all these important bits of history if there was somebody willing to listen without judgment in order for humans and monsters alike to live peaceful lives until the Devil made us fight as per usual, whichever way one tried to get past the wall in hell that marked the border where the fires consumed humanity.
Most nights demons simply lay there awake with eyes tightly closed thinking: Maybe I’d give all my friends a slap if they cared how I earned the money that pays for all our fucking living expenses anyway…
Just then something extraordinary happened; that morning Felicity suddenly and surprisingly brought breakfast into his flat and offered to drive him along the lakefront for ten bucks to fill petrol with what looked suspiciously like counterfeit greenbacks to further fuel speculation concerning the fact that she somehow still needed money to support herself when nobody took notice anymore!
Some more questions began circulating around as people started feeling less tired at night, wondering what Warwick must be trying to keep from them. Perhaps it was something serious when Felicity picked him up without letting anyone know exactly why though that only made most people shrug and carry on with their private rituals such as prayer for the end to all of this farce but without making any headway considering God appeared extremely deaf whenever Satan forgot who it was his boss should be dealing with nowadays…
In his heart, Warwick wondered if a housewife like Felicity had gone to see a doctor recently otherwise did the powers-that-be plan an intervention for her later? Just imagining someone besides her telling Felicity things had changed convinced the guy he couldn’t cope, so just like old times he drifted away whilst leaving them hanging between his utter exhaustion (after fighting for nearly a year over nothing?) and all sorts of stupid decisions designed to postpone admitting defeat.
Whatever happens, people talked all day from first light till dusk without food or drink yet somehow survived in spite of occasional mild dizziness when people lost track of all previous plans regarding deadlines.
A whole nation full of morons did indeed wake up in April 2011 under strange conditions and rumors said its citizens hardly noticed anything strange when entering shops because a veil suddenly covered each entrance.
Most townsmen carried heavy bags on their shoulders every day thereafter filled mostly with ready meals although you might find the odd bundle of clothes thrown together or, equally peculiarly, women’s underwear sometimes replaced men’s trousers and shirts despite men suffering almost no effect from whatever caused everyone to drop out of circulation and a population well below normal age to start acting weird nobody seemed particularly worried by either detail!
People clapped their eyes on war criminals and victims alike throughout cities, slum areas, or backyards although hardly anything unexpected occurred in a public context. For example, in May the military declared it was after monsters on top of ordinary thugs due to last October’s monster storm season killing dozens with thousands missing while half of Darwin and Mackay regions still burned rubble scattered among trees and boulders now bare of leaves which ordinarily shouldn’t have been affected by those seasonal storms which ruined roofs and windows worldwide causing panic and disorder amongst farmers planting the seed early to counter major crop damage elsewhere.
It turned out there were widespread outbreaks of minor cancer occurring across the world coinciding with unusually late seasons and the melting of polar ice caps putting some rivers entirely underwater. Both phenomena clearly demonstrated a certain kind of supernatural power.
Even President Cameron of Australia called his government on TV immediately following his press conference threatening action against whatever possessed vast parts of Earth and hinted at dark thoughts of retaliation afterward by Britain’s and America’s armed forces whose special units actually enjoyed covert contact with this country as part of a secret international peacekeeping effort for some years.