Office Demon
By: Jessica Brook Johnson

Today is my 1057th birthday. I'm bored. The cactus on my desk is dying. Most of the plants I bring into my apartment tend to do that.

Working at home was a deliberate choice. Too many people died when I worked at the office. I couldn't help myself. When I didn't feed, I starved. I started living out episodes of Loony Tunes. My coworkers turned into walking hotdogs or mustard packets. I told myself I could feed off little crumbs of them at a time. Enough for me to feel sated and them drained by another "hard day of work." But my hunger always got the best of me. And after five "mysterious" deaths I got tired of buying Hallmark cards. What does one write for such an occasion anyways? "I'm sorry I killed your friend. I'm a one-thousand-year-old demon spawn. Here are some chocolates."

So home is where I work now, just me and my dying cactus. I think I'm going to call him Samuel.

The End


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