FEEDING YOUR DEMON OR, FROM HELL TO TACO BELL BY ZOE MARZO ART BY JASON WHITE As if losing her job wasn’t bad enough, now Deb had to contend with the demon she’d summoned and a friend who was “deeply concerned” about the choices she was making. “Do you think you might be self-sabotaging, just a little bit?” Sybil asked. “Well, I didn’t exactly fire myself, did I?” Deb retorted. Deb only dabbled in the dark arts, but you can do a lot with a little rage, the power of intention, and a summoning circle drawn on the floor of your corporate office. But to be fired for something like that seemed grossly unfair. They’ll give three warnings for sexual harassment, but smear a little pig’s blood on the walls, and you’re fired?! Effective Immediately?! She boxed up her things — a philodendron, an empty bottle from the butcher shop, red stains visible through the clear plastic, a framed photo with the glass broken and her ex’s eyes blacked out — and she left. A little green demon shuffled behind and followed her home. The demon sunk into the sofa and kicked its feet. Its legs didn’t reach the ground. Charnokc (that was its name) gazed up at Deb with large yellow eyes and scratched absently at a boil that erupted from its bilious green skin. She looked at the demon, and thought, So this is what my anger looks like. Sybil seemed to float into the room, her flowy skirt swishing in an invisible breeze. She carried burning sage in an abalone shell and waved an eagle feather to fan the smoke. Charnokc leapt off the couch, retreating to the corner and making a sound that could have been a hiss or a wheeze. “Syb, stop! You know Charnokc’s allergic to sage!” Charnokc sneezed. Sybil regarded the demon, expressionless, “Oh no, Charnokc. If you’re uncomfortable here, maybe you should go back home. To hell.” “We’re all going to have to leave if I can’t pay rent,” Deb said. “I’ve been looking for a job, but apparently, I spent my life training to be a robot and No. 145 now we have AI. No one is hiring for my skillset.” In a voice that crackled like hellfire accompanied by a chorus of disharmonious echoes, Charnokc, crouched in the corner, whispered, “Your rebellion in the workplace is timely and honorable. You broke your chains and unleashed vengeance upon the world. I am that vengeance.” Sybil sat next to Deb, set the sage on the coffee table, and smoothed her skirt. “Well, I can’t get a job right now. This is my job. Helping my friend is my job, but— ” she looked at Charnokc, “I heard Taco Bell is hiring.” The manager at the Taco Bell was a teenager named Corey, with curly hair that had a flash of purple peeking out from underneath his Taco Bell logo baseball cap. He consulted his clipboard in a manner that he believed was officious: “So, Charles.” “Charnokc.” “What’s your full name?” “I am Charnokc, the Disheveler, Bringer of Disarray, Steward of Shadows, Shiver-maker of the Otherworld, Proprietor in the Plains of Despair, Champion of the Downfall.” “Char-les Dish-evil-er. Can you spell that?” “No.” “Ha, right. Tell me about what kind of job experience you have.” “I tended the fires of hell.” “Oh, right on. Like a pizza kitchen? I did that for a while too. Those pizza ovens get pretty roasty-toasty, am I right? So, you have prior food industry experience.” “I commanded a legion of devils.” “My dude, I am loving the management experience, but it makes you overqualified for this role. We’re really just looking for someone to work the drive-thru window.” “That position sounds abysmal and hence it is acceptable.”
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