Devil like Me-
Devils are not always evil, devils are merely those who might love. In the end, we may die. And so for those who may want to live for some strange reason, there is revival.
John opened his red eyes, rubbing them before sitting up. Glancing around at his small room, he looks out his window at the large skyscrapers just across the street. Sliding off the bed, he walks closer to the window and looks down at bustling crowds a large distance below, vaguely hearing the honking of frustrated drivers. Standing still, taking a deep breath, feeling the warm sun caress his toned body, he smiles. Moving to the door, he passes a mirror with a crack in the shape of a smile.
Hours later, in a sleek black shirt and pants, John walks to do what he does best, pick up artistry. His gold chain necklace dangling, and with an erect spine, he moves into a cafe on the side of a busy street, catching strangers looking at him, and out of the corner of his eye, a beautiful red-haired girl with a thick book. Gliding through the lively cafe, he cocks his head at the last moment as he goes by and shoots a comment with a big shit-eating grin, "Hey, I've been looking for something interesting to read. What book is that?"
Looking up, her wide eyes barrel into John, and with a smile like a puppy, she loudly declares, "It's a book about flowers."
John fights the urge to sprint away, and he instead slowly turns his torso towards her, saying "Flowers can be pretty."
Pausing for a moment, she opens her red rimmed mouth, saying, "Yeah, my whole life, I've always loved flowers."
John slides into a seat next to her, saying as he sits down, "Always?"
Gripping her book and tensing her eyebrows,
"Always."
Depressed that this girl was a little retarded, John smoothly got back up, saying, "You've got some flowerlike features."
"My nose," and then she wiggled her nose, "is a little like a snap dragon."
At this point, extricating himself from the conversation on vaguely amicable terms, John turns his back and walks to the cafe barista, clearly saying, "I want a Caramel Macchiato."
The barista looks him dead in the eye and says, "Cash or credit?"
John glances at the barista's tits, saying, "Credit."
Paying, John then finds a spot on the opposite side of the little cafe from where the little redhead was, hoping to spot another hottie.
The barista was kind of hot.
The barista was really very kind of hot.
She was the sort of girl who your near blind eyes may vaguely discern the personality of. The sort of girl who, when she ran, might give off jiggles of personality that most boys and the odd girl could see.
John decided on this day that he may very well have this bombastic cutie in his arms. Shuffling his way back over in ways that revealed an element of grace, John placed his hand on the wooden counter and gazed intently at the barista's breasts as he, with great attempts at confidence, made a comment.
Waiting for a right moment, John struck at a moment, breathing out his somewhat well thought out, meaningful statement, "You're a...."
John hiccupped.
"Gemini."
The left part of her mouth curling up, the coffee barista looked at John, noticing that his eye contact somehow missed her eyes and landed squarely instead on her breasts.
Giving an understanding nod, she reached over the counter with great effort, whacked him on the head, and sympathetically sighed, "Oh yes, it seems that your eyes were misaligned, and I love signs."
And then she did the most anti-seductive thing she could think of and began to blow her nose into a cute white tissue as she locked eyes with John.
John nodded and then proceeded, thinking, "I'll have to try to teach this simple girl manners when I might have time.."
"Since you're a Gemini, you might have a car."
Done with blowing her nose, the devil herself did the salsa across the barista's face, beginning from her lips, contorting her face in strange directions.
John noticed and was unsure what to make of it.
"I have a car."
"What kind of car?"
"Blue."
"Blue?"
"It flies too."
"Flies?"
"I usually get air when I go 90 and hit a speed bump, yes."
An awkward pause later, John took back his hand from the counter and gave her breasts one last glance, "I actually really have to go..."
And then he, like a duck might walk, left the cafe.
As he was walking, deep lines engraved in his face, the images of the day lazily flew around his mind.
"Yes, yes, I demonstrated low value there... Yes, yes..."
And then it struck him, hitting his face and sending him tumbling to the pavement.
He had forgotten to wait for his Caramel Macchiato at the cafe.
Getting up and racing back to the cafe, he stopped, thinking, 'I would not like to have one someone know I forgot.'
Looking around, he saw an umbrella store- a store dedicated to the sale of umbrellas.
Racing towards it, he ejaculated at the first person he saw in the store, "What's your cheapest umbrella!?"
"I don't work here."
Visibly disturbed, the fellow John talked to walked off.
John grabbed a random umbrella and stalked to the front, casually throwing it on the desk and saying, "Just give me a number."
"28."
John gave a second look to the person he was speaking to, a large gruff man with small patches whose aggressive fat was sticking out in every which direction.
John laughed at the joke and replied, "yes, yes, the price of the umbrella now, come on."
"29."
John glanced a third time at the man. Opening his mouth to-
"30."
Shutting his mouth, John paid the man and left, taking his shiny new umbrella with him.
At the cafe now, he opened his umbrella and strolled in, shoving its edges through the door, and carefully dipping the umbrella down to keep his face hidden as he looked for his caramel macchiato, thinking, "GRRRRRRRR!"
Looking around some more, he found it right in front of the red head and the barista, who were having a lively conversation.
"... Don't really know that guy, no."
"He was a..."
Laughter burst out, and John thanked his lucky stars for his umbrella.
Walking over with his umbrella, he angled the umbrella as a shield between himself and the two, grabbing the macchiato, walking out of the cafe.
Throwing the umbrella in the recycling bin a minute later, John walks home and lies down on his soft fluffy bed, turning on a fan to blow a gentle breeze over him as he mercilessly choked his chicken, passing out shortly after.