Loading ...Ken Korczac, whose blog is one of my favourite feats of storytelling on the net, recently wrote a two part series for Unexplained Mysteries call My Night with the Devil Worshippers. Its a funny harrowing story and I feel compelled to share my own, not so similar, story.
Whereas Ken had a single night with multiple devil-worshippers, I had multiple nights with a single devil-worshipper. I used to date a Satanist. And some of my nights with him are just going to have to be left out of this tale, since I don’t think my web host allows pornography. But I’ll leave you with one word. Priapism.
I’ve mentioned him before on my blog. His name was Weasel and he and his friend Ogre sold me their souls in exchange for two beers. Since I suspect Satan may have had prior claim on their souls, I may be in for a fight, but we’ll see what happens.
Weasel was, despite his reverence for the Lord of Darkness and all things unholy, a really nice guy. We met during the period of my life that I spent hanging out at the Interdimensional Diner. Among the assorted freaks and weirdos that hung out at this place, Weasel was the most normal of the bunch.
Once, he accused me of poisoning him. But for some reason, in those days, that was nothing unusual. People were always accusing me of poisoning them. I had a wee bit of a reputation as, well, a poisoner. There was no good reason for it really, except that… well, okay, I brewed poisons. I was a bit of an amateur herbalist, I had a fascination with poisons. But I never poisoned anyone. Not even by accident. Not even myself.
Still, guilt by association I guess.
Of course, if a known poisoner walks into the room and hands you a vial of putrid-looking liquid and says, “Drink this”, do you drink it?
Hell no! But he did. I guess he had to, I owned his soul after all.
But it wasn’t poison. It was Spanish Fly. Okay, sure thats the last thing on earth he needs to ingest considering his unflagging erection but I wanted to see the stuff in action. My friend Tami used to take the stuff because she liked the tingly feeling it gave her, not for any sexual purposes. It is, after all, just an irritant, and not very sexual at all.
“I’m feeling a bit tingly”, he said, “Have you poisoned me?”
“No, I haven’t poisoned you! Now lets fuck”.
Tami once accused me of poisoning her. We’d spent a long night discussing poisons, and I’d told her of a few that could easily be mistaken for food poisoning. That night she was violently ill. She phoned me the next day, “Did you poison me?”
“No, I didn’t poison you!” (I realise not many people get to utter those words in their lifetimes. But I’ve done so numerous times)
“Oh”, she said, “I thought you were trying to prove a point about our conversation last night. I thought it was pretty funny.”
Only Tami could think being poisoned is pretty funny.
Of course, I once thought Richard the Previous was trying to poison me. I seem to remember writing about that on the blog, but I can’t find the post anywhere. Just pretend like I’ve linked to it. Sprite should not be yellow.
Speaking of Richard the Previous, he once had an exciting night with my devil worshippers. One of the Satanists (not Weasel, but a friend of Weasel’s) got on his moral high-horse (hehe… who’d a thought Satanists have a moral high-horse) and accused R the P of improper behavior. It was, of course, a totally false accusation, R the P was far to busy tonguing some red-neck who had chewing tobacco in his mouth to be improper.. then again, kissing a tobacco-chewing redneck is kind of improper if you ask me. I’ve never asked R the P what possessed him to do such a thing, perhaps he’ll explain the lure of the tobacco-chewing redneck to us in a comment. Anyway I think the accuser was just being homophobic and stupid. Homophobes probably shouldn’t come to our parties.
And why would a satanist be homophobic? Aren’t they always kissing the devil’s ass and stuff?
Still, I got pissed off at Mark, the Satanist in question, and punched him in the face. It wasn’t a very good punch because not only was I drunk, but I was also thrown off balance from the 6 inch heels I was wearing, ( along with a satin teddy, a garter belt and stockings). I usually throw a pretty mean right hook.
Okay wait, this is going to take some ’splaining.
It was Rob’s birthday party, and as a gift, I’d prepared a strip-tease for Rob. Now Rob was about as queer as queer can get but that didn’t deter me. Gay men seem to love it when I get naked. I guess I’m like a man getting naked but without the penis. Anyway, I didn’t get naked but just stripped down to the teddy. And no, I don’t have pictures of this.
I do wish I had a picture of me punching the Satanist in the face. Did I mention he was around 6′5″? He stood there rubbing his jaw, looking all pissed off and said, “I don’t hit women, if I did, you’d be in trouble…”
Yep, I probably would…
To which Richard the Previous replied, “Thats so sexist! If you weren’t a sexist, you’d hit her!”
Thanks Richard. You’re my best friend you know.
So the Satanists left the party in a moral high-horse huff, all except for Weasel, who stayed because I promised him sex later if he did.
It seems I was always getting into a fight with someone when Richard was around. I once hit a christian on Bourbon Street who was attacking our friend Ho Kim, screaming that she was going to accept the lord as her savior or else. Then there was some guy in line at some cherry-blossom event we were attending. I have no idea why I felt the need to punch these people. Poisoning them would probably have been easier.
I had a couple of Satanic pacts with Weasel. Not only did I own his soul, but we promised each other that whichever of us died first would bequeath our skull to the other. It was very romantic, that.
Another phrase I’ve uttered that not many people get a chance to: “Would you put away that bell and inverted cross and come back to bed already.”
We also swore that wherever we were when I hit my sexual peak, I’d find him and give him the ride of his life. I think that sexual peak is right about ….
…now.
Where’s my phone book?
Buy me a beer!
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The story about your thinking I was trying to poison you is located on the old Shattered Prayer on the blogathon (July 29, 1:28 p.m.) with the title “The Haunted Highrise pt3: Not to be confused with the Highrise O’ Horror.” I told the story in a comment and then you told about the presumed poisoning in a comment about my comment.
No wonder you couldn’t find it!
You also tried to punch someone at the Opera House, and I’m pretty sure that is somewhere in the blogathon too.
Either I did not know or did not remember that Weasel was a Satanist. Being a Satanist is somewhat like being a fan of Star Trek but saying that Star Trek: Voyager is your favorite series. I mean, it is still Christian, but just a spin-off.
I dont know, Richard, that analogy is kind of stretching it. Surely Satanism is a better spin-off than voyager?
Ah right, its under the blogathon stuff, well goddam, I’m never going to find that.
Well, most spin offs are better than Voyager. All spin offs can’t be of Maude quality.
God’ll get you for that, Arthur.
How about this, Satanism is like saying you reject M*A*S*H and follow the tennats of AfterM*A*S*H?
You see, now your comparing christianity to MASH. Maybe that’ll be my cultural reference for the day.
Or Maude.