Out of cigarettes

The silhouette of the girl moves quickly down the alley toward me. I can’t make out her features, except for the creepy yellow eyes. I hate those. She stops suddenly, as if seeing me for the first time, and hunches her spine unnaturally. A deep, animal-like growl emanates from her.

“I require your soul,” she says in a deep, almost demonic male voice.

Dammit, why does it always have to be a man’s voice? Is there anything worse than a man’s voice in a girl’s body? Clowns I suppose. Those are worse.

I reach inside my rain coat and remove a small square of black leather with a red metal badge fastened to it. I show the badge to the demon girl just as she prepares to jump at me.

“My dear, I just ran out of cigarettes. What are the odds you’ll peacefully return below so I can move on?”

As if in answer, her mouth stretches to inhuman proportions, revealing row after row of sharp, rotting teeth. Faster than I can react, she is on me. I barely get an arm up and under her chin, keeping the snapping jaws at bay.

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