Saturday, February 14

It's daylight again! The vile apparel has now been reduced to a fraction of it's former glory. I knew it would not be able to hold out against the great Demon of Darkness that is I! My minions are gathering, getting ready to go and cavort in the outer reaches of the realm. In the snow. Crazy minions.

My incubus is on his way home. His conveyance ran out of fuel an hour away late last evening, and there was no way to replenish it. But he will be home shortly now. I had better go and finish off the apparel pile before he returns.

Friday, February 13

I have successfully reduced the pile of nasty apparel to half it's former glory. With great diligence, I may yet prevail. The incubus will not be pleased to find that his Demon's domain was nearly overshadowed by something with such a silly name as "laundry" (I learned it's name while reading a mortal's 'Ramblings').

Five hours and counting until my Incubus returns to my side. What else should be done before then? Eating utensils are being cleaned as I type, minions are comatose in their dungeons, HellHounds have been fed and are now guarding the minions (all but one, lazy-ass Hound, he's taken up residence on the lounging furniture). Perhaps I should employ that mechanical imp, Kenmore, to clean the floors again. Or I'll just go join my lazy Hound with a scroll to read.
More of that bloody white stuff. I think I need to convince the Incubus that the minions and I would be less evil if we lived in a warmer realm. Speaking of .... he shall be returning to me late tonight, with toys. Woodworking toys, not the other kind of toys, though I know well what Incubuses (Incubi?) do for a living.

I was bored this daylight. I reordered the minions' dungeons, and investigated several strange items of apparel that mortals cover themselves in. These things appear to multiply rapidly, and are determined to take over my porch. Leave just one item out, and when I next return to that area of my domain, there are dozens more. The pile had spread clear across the floor and attained a scarey height, rival to my own, but I shall perservere and beat back these vile garments.

The only way they can be beaten it seems, is to shove them inside a large white box, and allow the spawn within to wring the apparel senseless. I tried to catch the spawn in action, being the nosey Demon that I am, but they must have heard me coming, for they abandoned their victims to lie in a soggy, clear-coloured blood-soaked heap. As soon as I closed the lid, the sounds of thrashing resumed, and the spawn returned to their vicious task.

Wednesday, February 11

He left me. I chased my Incubus away with all my evilness. Oh well. He'll be back Sunday. And he's bringing a sacrifice. One for now (woodworking tools) and one or later in the spring (a '93 Jeep YJ Renegade, woohoo!). Good-bye Betsy the Ford, you served us well, but you eat too much.