Angel hummed a little nonsense melody as she walked down the street, her fancy new backpack—courtesy of a little Ledger magic—strapped to her back.

[You know you could just make an inter-dimensional pocket to store all your shit in, right?] Lew pointed out.

“I saw that, yes,” she confirmed. It had been listed as an annotation with the backpack spell. Nothing further was said for a few moments, though Angel did continue humming as she waited patiently for the cross signal before walking across an intersection.

[Sooo… is there gonna be an explanation why you wouldn’t just use that, or should I stop holding my non-existent breath?]

“I like hiking,” she pointed out. She really felt she shouldn’t have needed to say as much, since that was quite literally how they met, but perhaps, she thought, Lew was just forgetful.

[You said that like it actually explains anything.]

She frowned. She had thought it explained everything. Perhaps it was a demon thing? “Do demons not know about hiking?”

[Okay, just gonna reiterate for the umpteenth time that I can hear your thoughts. You can just, you know, not talk aloud, and I’ll still understa— Wait, walking that statement back. I’ll hear you. Hear—not understand. Understanding your wacky ass thoughts is, like, this whole other thing.]

Angel came to a stop as she reached the next street corner. After all, the blinking hand was present, and she hadn’t yet entered the intersection, which meant she needed to stop and wait. A businessman walked straight into her from behind before ducking around and racing past, taking the time to give her a dirty look as he rushed into the street, briefcase in hand. Looking back at her as he was, he of course missed the oncoming driver who took the turn at speed, striking him in the hip and sending him flying a good several yards. This abrupt introduction of car to human prompted the wounded businessman to let go of his briefcase in surprise, which sent it hurtling through the air directly into the flight path of a plethora of passing pigeons. Needless to say, the pigeons were also very caught off guard by the introduction of a briefcase into their immediate vicinity and must have had very excitable bowels indeed, as they all simultaneously shat at once, coating the fallen businessman in droppings that probably would not come out of his extremely expensive looking suit, especially given that it was mixing with his blood from the previously mentioned car injury that precipitated the whole affair.

Everyone nearby was naturally caught up in the commotion of this chain of events, but Angel was content to write it all off, seeing as it was plain to see what had caused it all to take place. There was a reason why traffic laws existed as they did.

The walking light turned on again. “You didn’t answer my question,” she pointed out as she stepped into the intersection, taking care to navigate around the haphazardly parked car and its driver, who was checking on the felled businessman and his unfortunately doomed suit.

Lew sighed, sounding very much so like a cat trying to cough up a hairball. Angel would know, having seen Leah’s cat do so on several occasions and usually on the nice carpet. [Yes, kid, I know what the fuck hiking is. It’s when you hummies put some of your shit in a sack, and you take it with you as you tromp around in the wilderness for a while. Why you would think sleeping in a bag and eating shit you cooked over a fire you made from sticks is fun is beyond me.]

Angel shrugged. Hiking just was fun. She would have to leave explaining this fundamental fact of nature to the professionals.

[Speaking of being professional—ugh, stupid compulsion making me give a damn—what’s up with your next target?]

“Repugna set up another easy case after I messed up with the serial killer.”

[She did?]

“Yes. I read it while you were asleep earlier.”

[I’m a disembodied spirit. I don’t need to sleep.]

“I see,” Angel responded. “In that case, I read it while you were doing a very good job of pretending to snore in my head earlier.”

Lew sputtered, making the usual denials that most people made when they were accused of snoring. She didn’t rightly understand why most everyone got so uptight about simple statements of facts—and a fact it was, for she had been present and awake for the whole eight hours he had been snoring—but it fit her model of how people generally behaved, so she didn’t think much of it.

[Look, whatever. Walk me through the job. What’s your game plan?]

"I dunno."

[Whaddya mean, 'You don't know'?! Ain't that why we're here?]

"Oh no," Angel said matter-of-factly as she reached another street corner. Across the street and down just a bit, one could just make out a faded sign proclaiming the small shop it hung over sold crafts. "We're here because I want to buy a sketchbook."

[I'd tell you to jaywalk, but you're too goody-goody for that.]

"Jaywalking's against the law."

[So is exposing people to my monstrous cock by not wearing underwear, but that didn't stop you from traumatizing that old lady yesterday.]

"I believe she was actually horrified by all the death. Oh, and the brutal murder of her grandson."

The light changed, and Angel skipped across, still humming away. Hmmm hm, hm-dy hmmm.

[Ugh, I wish I still had the body function to vomit... So setting aside for the moment that you can make one using the Ledger, why in Lucifer's almighty name do you want to buy a sketchbook?]

"No need to set it aside," she said, twirling around a few times to enjoy the feeling of her skirt whirling about her legs. This occurred at the precise moment a teenager passed by in the opposite direction, escorting two smaller children who were quite possibly twins, or so Angel suspected based on their similar features and age—fraternal twins were always quite the puzzle to identify by sight alone, after all. The younger children's eyes bulged so comically that she thought their eyes might literally pop out, which though awful was something she had always wanted to see out of morbid curiosity. Her twirling now done and the children now crying—which left their escort, who had missed Angel’s twirling, very thrown by their sudden shift in behavior—Angel concluded, "I always buy my supplies here."

[Yeah, but you have a Ledger now.]

"It's a small store, and I want to support it."

[Ugh, right. You're a millennial, I forgot. It’s all hipster shit and being a special snowflake who cares about the world. But fuck all that malarkey—I wanted to know why you want a sketchbook in the first place.]

"To draw things, of course.”

[Ah yes, that’s it then. How could I have been so ignorant? Of course you want a sketchbook to draw things. It’s all so obvious now.]

“Happy to have helped,” she chirped, having completely missed his sarcasm. “I’m looking forward to seeing Mr. Godfrey again. He’s a really nice guy.”

[Woah, wait—Stop!]

Angel froze in place, her hand on the door, having been all set to push it open, then she ran a quick check of everything to verify she had completely stopped: Hand? Immobile. Eyes? Also immobile and staring directly through the glass at Mr. Godfrey as he handed a customer their bag at the check-out. Breathing? Stopped, which she wouldn’t have been able to do in her old human body, but it seemed demons didn’t need to, or so she discovered in that moment when she forced herself to stop. Earth? Damn. The Earth was still spinning.

[You’re a moron, and I don’t just mean that little laundry list you ran down—though that too. You used to go to this place all the time?]

Yes.

[Holy zombie Jesus, you’re actually talking to me internally! Well fuck my grandma and call me devilish! Oh right, back to this colossal fuck-up of yours waiting to happen: Since you’re apparently a regular here, this ‘Godfrey’ person might recognize your… unique personality?]

Also yes.

The customer who had just checked out, a college-aged man with large glasses perched on his nose, pulled open the door and upon noticing Angel said, “Oh sorry, didn’t notice you… there…?”

[Uh huh. And you were planning to be you while looking like me?]

Angel blinked in surprise. Lew had raised a distinctly good point, and she had begun to get the impression that he tended not to.

[Oh eat a dick.]

“Dude, are you okay?” The man asked, understandably perplexed by Angel’s rigid posture and completely unblinking gaze.

Lew sighed. It really was remarkable how much his sigh resembled the production of a hairball. [I… give you permission to move again?]

“Excuse me,” Angel abruptly announced, “but I realized I’ve forgotten to do the thing I meant to do before coming here.” She then promptly turned away and marched straight to the closest alley, whereupon she ducked in and opened her Ledger to the index.

[So that was smooth.]

“Oh good, I thought I had done a rather poor job of pretending nothing was wrong.”

[Aaaand you’re back to talking aloud again. Why the fuck am I surprised?]

Reassured that nobody had noticed anything was awry—Lew sounded very certain of it, after all—she quickly located the listing for the human disguise spell then flipped forward to the relevant page. “Human disguise configuration. The human disguise spell, by its nature, is very flexible—”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

[You’re literally going to read this entire entry word for word, aren’t you?]

“I wouldn’t want to miss any important information.”

[You do remember I’m compelled to help you, right? You can just ask me questions about the job, and I’ve gotta answer them correctly.]

“Repugna said you were bad at your job, which is why she wanted to get rid of you,” Angel quite reasonably pointed out.

[No, no, no. I was just lazy, too easily bored, completely unable to focus... Oh, and I had a list of vices a mile long that I freely indulged in while on the job.]

Angel considered that statement for a moment, turning it this way and that in her head. “That sounds like you were bad at your job.”

[Look, just tell me your goddamn question.]

“How do I make the human disguise spell to look like my old body?”

[Right, figured. So you could try to tweak all your bits and bobs to match your old body, which will take forever.]

“Don’t I have eternal life now?”

[Shut up, I’m talking—also no, ‘cause if that shit in the park was any indication of how you’re gonna do, I’m guaranteed to have my body back at the next annual review. Now as I was saying, you should just apply residual self-image to the spell. Bam! Instant Angel disguise.]

“I thought I was trying to look like a human, not an angel.”

[I’m not going to dignify that by responding to it. Just look it up in the index and follow the goddamn instructions.]

She did exactly that and proceeded to layer her self-image over the human disguise spell Lew had previously set up. It was all quite a show of magic, strange gestures, incantations in tongues, and so on. Describing such in detail really would have made for a far more interesting paragraph for you, the reader, to consume with your eyeballs as you slowly scroll further and further down this website on your electronic device of choice whilst likely sitting on the toilet. Alas, the narrator is a lazy clod and couldn’t be bothered to go to all that effort, so instead you got this rot instead.

“Well that was interesting,” Angel said, referring to the undoubtedly fascinating magic that had just occurred but been ignored by malicious narrators.

[See? Way easier.]

“Also, my clothes fit better now.”

[Gee, I wonder why.]

“Well personally, I suspect—”

[Sar-fucking-casm. Now go buy your sketchbook or whatever, so we can focus on the next job.]

Angel tucked the Ledger under arm and left the alleyway, completely oblivious to the homeless man seated on the ground just a half dozen feet further in, who had witnessed literally every instant of what had happened from the moment she stepped into the alley up until she left it. Fortunately for the sake of the narrator, who has no interest in developing a further side plot with the aforementioned homeless man, the man was inoculated to the myriad of strange things he saw living out of a homeless shelter and the alleys of this as yet unnamed city and accordingly gave precisely zero fucks about anything that Angel had said or done. Now you might be thinking the narrator has overlooked the fact that Angel’s appearance changed before this man’s very eyes, but fortunately for the lazy narrator, the man was fortuitously tripping balls after eating a leaf from a particularly bad cabbage—which has happened to us all at least once—and there was nothing the narrator needed to do beyond noting the consumption of said bad cabbage and the subsequent tripping of balls before moving on with the actual plot, if one is generous enough to describe the blather you have been reading up until this paragraph as such.

Angel stepped into the crafts shop and loudly pronounced, “Hi, Mr. Godfrey!”

“Why hello, Angel!” the portly Mr. Godfrey greeted her with a jovial smile. “And how is my favorite customer today?”

[Ugh, gag me with a spoon.]

“But I don’t want to gag myself with a spoon.”

“Pardon, dear?”

[Oh, this is definitely going to go swimmingly.]

“Sorry, I was responding to the demon in my head.”

[Correction: It’s going to go very swimmingly.]

“I see, I see,” Mr. Godfrey replied, obviously more than used to Angel displaying eccentric behavior. “Come to buy a new sketchbook, have you?”

“You know it!”

“Come along then, come along. I think I have a few of your favorite kind still on the shelf.”

[Ugh, this is too goddamn wholesome for me. Wake me up when you’re done, kid.]

“‘Kay, Lew.”

“Who?” Mr. Godfrey asked, glancing over his shoulder at her as they slid down the aisles towards the drawing supplies.

“Demon again, sorry.”

“Oh ho, very well. Ah! And here we are, it looks like I have two in stock. Just one for you, dear?”

“Please!”

Demonstrating a clear knowledge of his repeat customers, which is an essential trait of any small business owner, Mr. Godfrey thoughtfully inquired, “And will you be needing another box of colored pencils as well?”

“Oh my, I plum forgot I’d need more! Ones I got now’re almost nubs!”

Mr. Godfrey, having suspected another box would be required, had already bent over to retrieve one of her usual choice from a lower shelf. “Very well then. My price is the same as always. $10.00 and a chance to look at your latest drawings.”

Lew narrowed his non-existent eyes at this statement. You see, the demon had actually been lying when he asserted moments prior that he was going to sleep. This undoubtedly would have shocked poor Angel to learn, demons’ proclivity for lying notwithstanding, on account of how gullible she was on the whole. Moving back to the matter at hand, Lew was still unequivocally awake and had therefore had an opportunity to lay his aforementioned non-existent eyes on the price tags for the sketchbook and colored pencils, which totaled roughly $20.00. The demon could have procured a more exact number, but as it so happened, he had not been lying when he informed Angel earlier of his laziness. It is generally quite rare for demons to tell the truth when not being compelled to do so—which he had not been in that instant, for the topic was not specific to Angel’s job—and were this fact to have been made available to historians at large, it doubtlessly would have been noted in the annals of history. But in any event, what the narrator is ineffectively trying to convey is that the true total being close to double that quoted by the shopkeep had made Lew suspicious.

“You know I don’t mind!” Angel cheerfully replied as she and Mr. Godfrey moved to the counter at the front. She carefully set her bag on the counter, retrieved a crumpled $10 bill that she handed over to the shopkeep, then she pulled out a sketchbook that looked, spare the wear and tear on it, exactly the same as the new one she was purchasing.

“I haven’t actually filled up all the pages yet, but I just started a new job I need to travel for, so I didn’t know when I’d get another chance to come back to show you my work again.”

“Ah, outgrew that old bagging job, did you? I always knew you were going places, little miss! Now then, let’s see what you have for me today…”

Mr. Godfrey opened the page, and Lew’s still distinctly non-existent eyes would have twitched in irritation if they had been corporeal enough to do so. If the demon hadn’t known these drawings had been made by Angel, he would have mistaken them for the product of a nine-year-old child. They were all crude renditions of nature scenes lacking in any sort of depth or artistic skill and had likely been made while Angel was hiking, and each of them bore a far too large ‘ACK’ somewhere along the bottom that covered up some detail of the scene.

“Oh, how marvelous! You’ve outdone yourself again, my dear!”

Lew sputtered as Angel beamed, her lips curling up into a pleased smile. “You flatter me.”

[Obviously,] Lew couldn’t help but snidely comment.

“Nonsense!” Mr. Godfrey jovially replied. “It’s clear to the trained eye how much love you’ve put into each of these, and don’t you let that demon in your head tell you otherwise, you hear?”

[Wait, what?]

“Okay!”

[Hang on, kid, did he…? C’mon, that was uncanny, wasn’t it?]

“Oh she can’t hear you right now, Lascivious E. Wormboil,” Mr. Godfrey said with a calm smile. Lew realized with a start that everything around them appeared to be completely and utterly frozen. “She and I are having a lovely discussion over the details in some of her drawings while you and I have a chat, demon spawn. Also, I’ll have you know, I meant every word I said to her. She really does pour her heart and soul into those sketches of hers.”

[W-Who are you? What are you? The fuck do you want?!]

“Didn’t you hear? My name’s Mr. Godfrey. Henry Godfrey, to be precise, and I’m someone… on the other side, so to speak.”

[Wait, you’re an angel? An actual bonafide angel? You shits don’t interfere in the human world! What gives?!]

“I wouldn’t call it interference per se. Certainly nothing like what you were doing up until Angel here came into possession of your body. But that’s not why I’ve arranged this private conversation, Lascivious E. Wormboil. I wanted to forewarn you that you will fail in corrupting this one’s soul through your demonic games in the mortal world.”

[Okay, first of all, you’re aware I don’t actually want her to succeed right? ‘Cause it kinda sounds like you think I do, which no, I want my body back—end of story. Second, this retard was already heaven-bound before I got involved!]

Lew yelped as he quite suddenly felt as though a swift kick had been delivered to his shin, which didn’t make any sense because, like his non-existent eyes, he had no shins that could be the target of such a reprisal.

“Her mother would have wanted her to do that,” Mr. Godfrey said unbidden, as though that explained anything about what just happened. “I’ll address your statements in reverse order, if that’s quite alright. First, Angel was hell-bound when she made the mistake of tasting your blood.”

[Fucking what?!]

“Put simply, Repugna lied to you, as is often the way for your kin. Secondly, I am not questioning what choices you will or will not make. Free will is a blessing that even one as lowly as you may partake of. No, I am merely informing you you will fail to corrupt the soul of Angela Cherie Kirk.”

[You know, I always heard you feathery fucks never made any sense, but damn if this isn’t extra nonsensical. I can believe the boss lady lied—honestly, I should’ve seen that one coming—but you really expect me to believe that no matter what I do, this kid who you admit was bound for hell is gonna be incorruptible?]

“It is your choice what you will or will not believe, Lascivious E. Wormboil. But it seems our conversation must come to an end. We have reached the last drawing in Angel’s sketchbook.”

[Oi, hang on a second, you avian assblaster! I ain’t done talking to you!]

“Lew? I thought you said you were going to sleep?”

[Kid? No, I—]

“Talking to your demon again, Angel?” Mr. Godfrey said to her with a smile, speaking right over Lew. “Must be quite the vocal one. Not the bad sort though, I hope?”

[Oooooo, you infuriating— Ugh! I’m going to rip out each of your feathers, shove ‘em up your ass, and use you to dust my apartment, you yellow-bellied bastard!]

“Sorry, Mr. Godfrey, but I’m pretty sure he is. Right now he’s calling you a chicken and ranting about how he’s going to make you into a feather duster.”

The man laughed—laughed—and Lew could only stew, knowing there was no chance of the disguised angelic being rising to his bait. “Oh ho, the things you come up with, Angel! Perhaps he’ll turn out to be a diamond in the rough, hm? Now then, you had best run along and draw some more lovely pictures for me to enjoy.”

“Okay!” Angel tucked her old sketchbook along with her new supplies into her backpack. She then gave the proprietor a jaunty wave and said, “Bye, Mr. Godfrey!”

“Oh, and Angel?” he called out as she touched the door.

She turned back to face him. “Yes, sir?”

“I’m sure you’ll do commendably with your new job. You be good now, y’hear?”

“I’ll do my best!” And with that said, she slipped out the store. “See? I told you he was nice.”

[Uh huh, yup. He was positively angelic.]

“Good. I’m glad you see it too, Lew.” She stepped back into the same alleyway as before and started drawing a portal to leave, once more—despite all odds—oblivious to the man who was still high as a kite on bad cabbage.

[So… on to the job then?]

“Oh, that already passed.”

[Say what now?]

“Well, I figured if the person was already set to go to hell anyway, then the best way to make sure I didn’t ruin that was to not be there in the first place.”

[So you…]

“Came here to buy a sketchbook instead, yup!”

[I am somehow simultaneously impressed and disgusted.]

“Hooray! Both you and Mr. Godfrey think I’m impressive! I think today’s gonna be a good day, Lew. I gotta feeling.”

She stepped through the portal, leaving the city behind.