Friday, March 9, 2012

Waiting

There were magazines laid out on a table a few seats over from mine.  I scooted down and grabbed the first one.  Brimstone Weekly.  Featured on the cover was what appeared to be some kind of female demon.  She was naked and quite attractive, but there were lots of claws and sharp edges and flaming bits and I didn't find the burnt-red skin to be much of a turn-on either.

The caption across her stomach read Kivra:  10 Secrets to Torturing Success.  I flipped through the magazine briefly, but almost every page seemed to contain detailed drawings and diagrams of various methods of mutilating human flesh.  I tossed the magazine back on the table and picked up another.

The Crochet Hook, February 1973 edition.  I immediately selected another magazine.  Vomiting Journal.  I gave up.

Moments later, a door on the far side of the room opened and a pretty young woman who appeared to be dressed as a nurse stepped out.  She glanced up from the clipboard she was holding.  "Giles, Jason?" she called out.  

That was my name.  Mostly out of habit--because this is how things worked in waiting rooms--I stood up, gave a quick wave, and started walking toward her.  She flashed me a sweet smile and said, "The Devil will see you now."

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