Charlie Intermission VI
Lucky snored a lot. That was something Charlie had come to learn about his employer in the many nights he’d slept over.
In the void of his office, the prince’s snoring ricocheted like gunshots along the walls.
He was out like a light, curled up on the sofa with the biggest blanket Charlie had ever seen over his body and a rhythmic puff of smoke leaving his lips with every exhale.
The priest had quietly gone back to filing.
Walking up and down the rows of mismatched files, piles of paper, and boxes without labels from the days when Lucky had tried to be organized had become so normal to him.
He liked the idea of continuing this work in Heaven.
He didn’t like the idea of not being able to see Lucky, though. It left a weird ache in his stomach.
As he grabbed a box without a year to peer inside of it, he heard the elevator chime.
He looked over his shoulder at the entrance, wondering if their sandwiches had arrived.
Lucky hadn’t seemed to have moved from the noise, so Charlie hurried back down the hall to greet whoever it was that had decided to pay them a visit.
Poor Charlie hadn’t been paying attention, though.
If he had, he would have known that the elevator was reserved for the royal family.
Whoever was on the other side of those doors didn’t come bearing delicious cold cuts on wheat bread.
Charlie stopped dead in his tracks when he found himself standing face to face with a massive four-horned devil.
The long-haired entity scanned the room for a second with spotlight eyes of burning orange until they landed on Charlie.
A wicked grin, Cheshire-like and emotionless, split the perfectly symmetrical face in half. It felt malicious.
“Well, how interesting.” The voice reverberated deep into Charlie’s soul. “The fabled priest.”