- "Ignoring the severed heads in the closet does not make for a good relationship. It makes for an unsanitary closet and possible accessory charges."
- How to Train Your Hellhound
"NIIIIIIIIILLLLSSS!" That was not the come-here-I-am-in-trouble shriek. That was the come-here-you-are-in-trouble shriek. As a demon in the pits of Hell, he had feared little but the wrath of his master. Now on the Earth, little ever scared him more than the thought of Callie being angry with him.
Nilhomet slunk into the cold stores, where Callie was standing on a step stool and pointing to a plastic box.
"These," she said in calm, crisp, and patient tones, "had better be bread."
The objects in the box appeared to be heads, faces, and random limbs. "Er. Some of them are sculpted pork bellies," he offered.
"And the rest?"
He never liked to admit it out loud. "They're bread. With minced bacon and blood sausage inside."
"...eeeeuuuuwww... Nils, why?"
"I am a demon. I have needs."
Callie nodded. This had been one among many of their early spats. Solved with substitutes and, she must have believed, weaned away. "And why do so many of them look like our landlady?"
Nilhomet couldn't help but rant. "She's just so... annoying! She's always on my case about the music and I check it with a decibel meter and I have timers that turn it off one minute before the time and half an hour after the time I'm allowed, but she's always 'just reminding me' about the music times and volume allowed. And she's on my case about how I should obey the law."
"You did choose to look vaguely hispanic, love. And the locs don't help."
"I have to hide my head-serpents somehow... And then she talks about the roof garden and how legal all the plants are! We've had the police come and look at the tomatoes five times this week! And it's only Wednesday! She's a nuisance and a racist bitch and I want to eat her head."
Callie sighed. "Fine. But we're labelling this so no mistakes are made." She whipped out her trusty marker pen and scribbled, Nils' experiments. NOT FOR SALE!!! across the side. She climbed down from her perch and took his hand in hers. "Next day off, I'm teaching you the art of passive-aggressive gift-giving."