The Devil’s Own Piss

Holy Moley! The Devil’s Own Piss is a year old (plus a day or two). Go back and start at the beginning and meet Lucifestus the devil. Ok, he’s A devil, not THE devil.

THE DEVIL'S OWN PISS

The Devil, or should I say, a devil, needed a double-thirteen to win. I desperately needed him to miss. He tilted is head just so, pointing his left horn at his target; then let it fly. Right on the money. I went queasy. How could I have been foolish enough to accept the wager? It’s The Devil for Chrissakes. Sorry, a devil – a petty technicality at that moment. I was pretty sure there was no welching a bet with a devil, singular or plural.

**********

About twenty minutes earlier, I had been siting at the end of the bar, minding my own business, nursing an IPA. Half watching a Warriors-Raptors game on the television, half watching Chloe, the bartender go about her lovely, lovely business. For a good minute or so I was only vaguely aware that someone had sat down at the stool next to mine. When I…

View original post 1,769 more words

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s