A woman awakes in a hospital bed, and for a moment can't recall what she's doing there or what happened to put her in this place. A voice says "Hello, Leslie," and she peers around the room and suddenly sees a figure sitting cross-legged on the end of her bed. She squints her eyes at him, and the figure comes into focus. It's a tiny man, about 12 inches tall, dressed in a business suit stretching over a large belly. His face is an unusual color of orange, his hair is a touseled blond poof. Around his neck is a long electric blue tie that flutters out with a passing breeze, and the man smooths it down. He has hooves and horns, and she recognizes him as a demon and wonders if he's a figment of her imagination.
"Hello, Leslie," the demon says again. "I am an angel, the angel of post-operative surgery, and I've been sent by God to show you the perfect way through these your darkest hours."
Leslie looks over at the other bed in the room, but of course, it's empty. Covid 19.
"An angel! Where's your wings and halo?" asks Leslie.
"We angels get to pick our own wardrobe," says the demon. "This is from Martin Greenfield Clothiers. In Brooklyn. American made."
Just then, there's a soft knock at the door, and the nurse enters. He is garbed from head to toe in PPE, even wearing a face guard. He greets Leslie, checks on her vital signs, asks her how she is feeling. Leslie says "I might be delusional," and the nurse laughs and says "It's okay, you still don't have covid and you'll be fine." Another tap at the door, and a doctor, also in protective gear, enters the room. "You've come through the surgery very well, Leslie," says the doctor. "The next thing we need to do is stimulate your body, get your digestive system going, and then you can go home."
"In other words," the nurse adds, "you need to belch and fart."
"What a load of garbage," the demon cries. "These guys would have you believe anything, can't you tell they're elitists? And that so-called doctor has an accent, she's probably an immigrant. They hate us! They are only interested in getting you out of here and making more money off the next poor schmuck. You are a taxpayer, you deserve to keep this bed. You would be miles better off if you just slept away the days in the hospital, enjoying the rest and relaxation and people waiting on you. I love that, when people wait on me. God wants you to be waited on!"
"Will it hurt," asks Leslie of the doctor. "There might be some discomfort," the doctor says and the demon screams, "Fake news! This east coast liberal elitist is lying to you! I am a genius on this subject, I know much more than she does about everything, and I'm telling you it will be horrifically painful if you fart. Plus, it's not cool. You want to be cool, don't you?" shouts the demon. "You can't imagine, oceans of pain, while the world will be so much better off if you keep the gas in. And it's your gas! Why should you share it with the world?"
The doctor and nurse leave, closing the door on Leslie in isolation.
"Ah good, they're gone," says the demon. "Probably off counting the money they get from the fake covid patients."
"Who sent you?" Leslie asks. "You don't sound like an angel. Can you prove you're an angel? I believe it is more likely that a nurse is an angel, and you're definitely not wearing PPE."
"How stupid are you! What do you know about angels! I'm a perfect angel! Just look at my tie! It's from China, the best kind. Who else but an angel would wear this outfit?"
"You're not a cowboy," says Leslie mysteriously. And then she points at him, lets out a tremendous fart, says "Begone demon!" and the little man disappears in a poof of green smog.
MORAL: To get rid of a demon, simply fart in its general direction.
This is an entry in the The Encyclopedia of Minor Deities.
"Hello, Leslie," the demon says again. "I am an angel, the angel of post-operative surgery, and I've been sent by God to show you the perfect way through these your darkest hours."
Leslie looks over at the other bed in the room, but of course, it's empty. Covid 19.
"An angel! Where's your wings and halo?" asks Leslie.
"We angels get to pick our own wardrobe," says the demon. "This is from Martin Greenfield Clothiers. In Brooklyn. American made."
Just then, there's a soft knock at the door, and the nurse enters. He is garbed from head to toe in PPE, even wearing a face guard. He greets Leslie, checks on her vital signs, asks her how she is feeling. Leslie says "I might be delusional," and the nurse laughs and says "It's okay, you still don't have covid and you'll be fine." Another tap at the door, and a doctor, also in protective gear, enters the room. "You've come through the surgery very well, Leslie," says the doctor. "The next thing we need to do is stimulate your body, get your digestive system going, and then you can go home."
"In other words," the nurse adds, "you need to belch and fart."
"What a load of garbage," the demon cries. "These guys would have you believe anything, can't you tell they're elitists? And that so-called doctor has an accent, she's probably an immigrant. They hate us! They are only interested in getting you out of here and making more money off the next poor schmuck. You are a taxpayer, you deserve to keep this bed. You would be miles better off if you just slept away the days in the hospital, enjoying the rest and relaxation and people waiting on you. I love that, when people wait on me. God wants you to be waited on!"
"Will it hurt," asks Leslie of the doctor. "There might be some discomfort," the doctor says and the demon screams, "Fake news! This east coast liberal elitist is lying to you! I am a genius on this subject, I know much more than she does about everything, and I'm telling you it will be horrifically painful if you fart. Plus, it's not cool. You want to be cool, don't you?" shouts the demon. "You can't imagine, oceans of pain, while the world will be so much better off if you keep the gas in. And it's your gas! Why should you share it with the world?"
The doctor and nurse leave, closing the door on Leslie in isolation.
"Ah good, they're gone," says the demon. "Probably off counting the money they get from the fake covid patients."
"Who sent you?" Leslie asks. "You don't sound like an angel. Can you prove you're an angel? I believe it is more likely that a nurse is an angel, and you're definitely not wearing PPE."
"How stupid are you! What do you know about angels! I'm a perfect angel! Just look at my tie! It's from China, the best kind. Who else but an angel would wear this outfit?"
"You're not a cowboy," says Leslie mysteriously. And then she points at him, lets out a tremendous fart, says "Begone demon!" and the little man disappears in a poof of green smog.
MORAL: To get rid of a demon, simply fart in its general direction.
This is an entry in the The Encyclopedia of Minor Deities.