The Pointer of Power

The dark mage gestured with his wand. “…as you can see on Slide Two-Eighty-Three, there is no way the forces of good can possibly overwhelm us once our Strategic Action-Response Plan is in place…”

The wizard paused, appearing puzzled. A gleaming sword blade protruded from his sternum. He slumped, and the golden-haired hero stepped up to the podium, plucking up the wand as he went.

“We have come to liberate the people! Dynamically!” he cried out. The assembled minions cheered heartily. The hero fondled the wand handle, a strange smile on his face. “But first,” he said, “a few slides.”

The Last God

Who shall sing your praises, O Lord, with pipe and horn and tambourine, to dance in joy throughout the night?

Not you, O Faithful Revelers.

Who shall build your temples, O Lord, with towers and arches, glass and gold, reflecting your light unto Heaven?

Never you, O Restful Workers.

Who shall give the laws, O Lord, with wisdom and grace, counsel and guidance, that all may know your ways, delighting to follow them?

Anyone but I, O Obedient Children.

How then shall we serve you best, Lord of Procrastination?

You shall do all of these things, and more, Beloved.

Tomorrow.

The Merest Fraction of a Soul

"I don't know about this," said Brenda. She glanced nervously behind her as the incubus pushed her chair in. He winked.

"Hon, it's fine," said Jon. "It's like fast food. A little bit every now and then won't hurt much."

"But it does hurt?"

"Madam," said their waiter, materializing in a puff of brimstone, "there is no pain at all here. We offer the finest earthly pleasures in a strict transactional mode. The most succulent meats, the most delicate glazes..."

"I'm vegetarian."

"How wise. Healthy and moral." The waiter smiled, revealing razor teeth. "Shall we start with a salad, then?"