Bad Driver

By Carissa Halston

Yesterday I ran over a demon.
Wasn't much what I pictured a demon to look like, but a demon he was.
Did you know they bounce on pavement?
I chucked to myself when I saw it, then put on my adult "I'm-so-sorry-Iswear-I-didn't-see-you-there" face.
He was relatively okay for the wear and tear of it, but God, did he bitch and moan.
"Do you know the severity of your actions?" this and "I could make it very bad for you in the underworld," that.
Then he threw in, "I know Satan, ya know. Just a word and like that," snapped a gnarled finger, "you're dust, my friend."
I guess I looked pretty unimpressed because he really started laying it on thick after that.
"What if I'd been seriously injured?" he asked. "There are rules about these things. I'd have had to stay with you. How could you have explained that?"
he gasped.
"What if I have internal bleeding? I've got a family to worry about. A succubus and three little hellions running around." And then I felt pretty bad.

Until this morning, when I ran over an angel.