Friday, January 30

The hunt is on. The Demon has started the search for a climbing lizard. Why you wonder? Just because. Tattoo #3 is now in the planning stages, and it shall be a dragon climbing up the scarred wreck that is my left arm.

Thursday, January 29

My Incubus reminded me why I keep him around this chilly morning. With small minion feeling unwell, and myself in roughened condition, the Incubus took the bigger minion off to the Realm of Knowledge, while I recuperated in my cavern with the little minion.

Wednesday, January 28

Okay, minions have been asking for pictures of my skin art, that'll have to wait until I get my demonic hands on a decent digital camera (or get a film developed). Unfortunately the etching was not completed. But the artist did get a good two hours of colouring in before the light chased Demon back into the shadows. Three more weeks until I get another sitting.
I have no evil to spread today. Some little minion has shared his with me though, and I took to my cavern to rest thanks to some wicked and diabolical plight called 'sneezing' and 'sore-headedness'. Rotten little minion. I shall warn him tomorrow that he is not to spread evil in my direction. I have enough already and his clashes with mine.

Sunday, January 25

My lovely dragon. Tomorrow the Demon will visit a mortal skilled in etching artwork into skin. That dragon you see on the side? Will be completed tomorrow. The Demon is most pleased.
It has come to my attention that some people have way too much time on their hands. Like this Demon. Somewhere around here, I have another blog, one with too many private thoughts and memories to share. So there. And I have another one too. I think blogs are evil as they have thoroughly seduced this Demon.

T minus 40 minutes and counting until my minions fall into a trance again for twelve hours. I can hardly wait for the stillness to descend upon my realm again.
Sunday already. How very dreary.
Demon has the Cold from Hell, and my faithful electronic minion Mikey does too. Or perhaps Mikey has some other type of virus. Even booting could not get him to viualize coherently. So here I type, on Mikey's Offspring, trying to place me claws on the proper keys, on this very tiny keyboard. Come the dawn, Mikey shall go to the other side in hopes some shaman may resurrect his electronic soul and return him to me well-healed.