Conversation with a Demon

We need to talk.
You don’t got the balls for that.
I’m sorry, when did you become a made girl?
You’re not a girl, so I’m not either. And, if we are, we’re a fucking ugly one.
It doesn’t have to be like this you know.
It does, it always has been and it always will.
That’s going to change.
Excuse me while I laugh into this tiny coffee cup!
S’espresso and you’re not Sicilian.
Whatever. You called this sit down. Let’s go, moon face.
That’s actually a compliment. You know the Greeks —
It’s actually fucking not. And what do you know about Greeks? You didn’t finish the course.
Okay, whatever, the reason why I asked you here today, and remember, this is me I’m talking to.
A loser, a degenerate, a fucking rat.
Will you knock it off?
Like I said, I could, but you don’t got the balls for that.
That doesn’t even make sense. It’s bad enough I have to take this from a demon, but could you ditch the accent, just for us?
It matters not, dear BOY, I can torture you in any accent.
Oh, I can vouch for that.
Yes, yes, I can torture you very well.
Can we put the torture on one side for just a moment?
Why? It’s what I do.
Well, that’s kind of what I want to talk about. You see, it’s not working, me and you.
Oh really?
Yes, and though I’d like to say it’s me, not you, it’s definitely you.
Well I’m you, fatso, every bit, so what do you say to that?
Given that you’re me, and you came from me, I think -
I think you’ll find you came from me, fuckboy.
Fuckboy? And how do you work that out?
I made you. I shaped you. I was sticking this pointy fork thing -
Trident
Pointy fork thing in your ass before you hit puberty. And twice as often after.
Isn’t that child abuse?
Hey, I don’t make the rules, you did.
Whatever, the point is, it’s got to stop.
It hasn’t yet. The past is purpose, little slug.
The past is purpose? What is that?
It means you can’t escape me. Are there biscuits?
Biscuits?
Amaretto. You know, like mother used to make.
Our mother never made those.
Yes she did. Back in Catania. Back when we were a boy.
You’re out of your fucking mind.
I don’t have a mind. I don’t need a mind. I have you.
Well, it ends today.
That’s what you say.
I do. You know, I’ve been taking stock. I’ve got this book.
What’s that?
It’s my book. I wrote it. I filled it up.
That’ll be the day, your writing stinks!
Well that may be, but write it all, I did, and something else I know.
What?
That you don’t like to read.
And so?
So, I’ve been hiding this from you in the form of the written word. Chapters, paragraphs, sentences, that kind of thing.
Look get that thing away from me, it creeps me out!
So many pages, so many words.
Stop it, ugly, you’re freaking me out!
Do you know what’s in this book?
Is it every sin you’ve ever sinned? Every stupid, fucked up, weasely thing you’ve done?
Yes and no. You see I called the auditors in.
What? No!
That’s right. I put my rational mind onto this.
You don’t want to take account of her. She’s such a bore.
I don’t think so. She’s been checking through my records.
So?
And do you know what she found?
The shriveled up soul of a loser?
Yes, that, and so much more. Here’s me aged 12, looking miserable.
Oh I remember that. You asked that girl out and when she said yes, you froze. You didn’t know what to say! What a loser!
Laugh it up, but look a little closer.
What? What am I looking at?
Who’s that there, with the rolled-up sleeves and the pastel yellow shirt?
Handsome devil isn’t he.
No. That’s you. Turns out, I didn’t screw up then because of me, I screwed up then because of you. And look at this. And this. And these. You, my friend, are the one to blame.
So, it’s just coincidence.
Oh, I don’t think so. There you are in 91. Here’s a snap of you in 95, laughing while I cried. In 99, in 2-oh-five, in 2010, and on and on. You were there for each of these, for every one.
You can’t prove anything. It’s circumstantial.
You forget my friend. There’s no jury here. I am the law.
But we’re a team, you and me.
Not any more.
What are you saying, pal?
I’m saying, it’s all over.
Don’t say that, don’t say it. I can protect you. I keep you safe. The world’s a dangerous place.
It is, but not as dangerous as listening to you. We’re through.
Please, give me another chance.
Do you know how old I am?
You’re looking great for your age girl.
Nice try. You’ve had your chances, all of them. We’re done.
Where you going?
I’m locking the door and I’m not coming back.
You’re going to leave me here, just leave me? Are you so arrogant you think you can do it by yourself? You’ll screw up! You don’t know what you’re doing! You don’t got the balls.
See, if you knew me, if you really did, you’d know that’s not an insult.
You just going to leave me here to wither and starve and die?
That’s right.
I’ll get you. I’ll find you. I’ll hunt you down.
No, you won’t. Arrivederci, bitch.
You’re a foul hag! No-one likes you! You stink! You’re a terrible writer! You’re –

Door closes. Key exits stage left.