So this is a small portion of what I do on weekends, from Before the Blood, Kellen's Story, Chapter Nine: The Sweet Life.
But Kellen also had a mischievous side, and he allowed it to play when John was occupied playing piano. He crawled through the sewers of Paris until he reached the neighborhood known as Montmartre on the Seine's right bank, seeped through a crack in the road, and stepped through the front door of le Café de l’Enfer (shaped like the hungry mouth of an angry demon) and bumped into Satan.
"Welcome to damnation!" the man in the devil's suit shrieked.
Before Kellen could reply, the man shrank back, eyeing Kellen's soiled clothes and holding his nose.
"I'll drink to that," Kellen agreed.
Still holding his nose, the devil led Kellen past rows of Paris underbellies occupying wood tables in the long, cavernous cafe. Stone gargoyles spread their wings and emerged from the rock ceiling, their clawed hands hovering above the clueless and innocent.
The devilish host and Kellen passed into a second, darker cave and to an empty table near the back, where the other patrons could not smell him.
"Coffee?" the devil asked in a nasal voice through tightly clamped fingers.
"Coffee...and cognac."
Twirling his tail, the devil scampered to the kitchen screaming, "One vessel of mortal sins, with a squirt of molten brimstone!"
Cackles replied from the back of the house.
The patrons seemed unaffected by the bizarre atmosphere, and they were too far away for Kellen's stench to bother them. They talked and smiled to their companions or read the day's news. Most wore black. None of the women had red hair.
But everyone smelled good enough to eat.
Another devil pranced to Kellen's table with the bubbling brew.
"Choke and die!" The devil slammed the mug before Kellen and then just as quickly pranced away.
Kellen sipped, relishing the coffee, drawing out the moment. Should he start with the customers or the wait staff? He pondered as he sipped and sipped. Decisions, decisions, decisions...
He picked up the mug for another sip, and his hand froze in mid-air. Horrified, Kellen lowered the mug and peeked inside.
It was empty.
He tossed a bag of francs on the table and fled.
But Kellen also had a mischievous side, and he allowed it to play when John was occupied playing piano. He crawled through the sewers of Paris until he reached the neighborhood known as Montmartre on the Seine's right bank, seeped through a crack in the road, and stepped through the front door of le Café de l’Enfer (shaped like the hungry mouth of an angry demon) and bumped into Satan.
"Welcome to damnation!" the man in the devil's suit shrieked.
Before Kellen could reply, the man shrank back, eyeing Kellen's soiled clothes and holding his nose.
"I'll drink to that," Kellen agreed.
Still holding his nose, the devil led Kellen past rows of Paris underbellies occupying wood tables in the long, cavernous cafe. Stone gargoyles spread their wings and emerged from the rock ceiling, their clawed hands hovering above the clueless and innocent.
The devilish host and Kellen passed into a second, darker cave and to an empty table near the back, where the other patrons could not smell him.
"Coffee?" the devil asked in a nasal voice through tightly clamped fingers.
"Coffee...and cognac."
Twirling his tail, the devil scampered to the kitchen screaming, "One vessel of mortal sins, with a squirt of molten brimstone!"
Cackles replied from the back of the house.
The patrons seemed unaffected by the bizarre atmosphere, and they were too far away for Kellen's stench to bother them. They talked and smiled to their companions or read the day's news. Most wore black. None of the women had red hair.
But everyone smelled good enough to eat.
Another devil pranced to Kellen's table with the bubbling brew.
"Choke and die!" The devil slammed the mug before Kellen and then just as quickly pranced away.
Kellen sipped, relishing the coffee, drawing out the moment. Should he start with the customers or the wait staff? He pondered as he sipped and sipped. Decisions, decisions, decisions...
He picked up the mug for another sip, and his hand froze in mid-air. Horrified, Kellen lowered the mug and peeked inside.
It was empty.
He tossed a bag of francs on the table and fled.
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