The first thing that he noticed about Sarah was that she was stunning, the whole works: Large green eyes, inky black hair, slender curves, tanned, she was like a goddess. The second thing he noticed? That she's kind of homicidal. I mean, if the knife sticking out of his chest is any indication, anyway. Still, John had never been one to let a petty thing like a crooked nose, or mismatched socks, or even being shaved bald at a frat party, stand in the way of him and a pretty girl. He decided to introduce himself. After all, she'd already stabbed him, what did he have to lose?
“Hi, I'm John. And you, are simply fabulous. And after tonight, you're gonna be mine.” Good work, John. I'd seen him use that pick up line many times, countless times, and it had worked at least half the time. I mean, only a quarter if you discounted inanimate objects, and maybe only about five if coma patients don't count. But who doesn't count coma patients? What's that, you don't? You think they're an inanimate object? You monster. And people think I'm bad. But more on that later... I could see the clear signs of her budding attraction: Parted lips, elevated heartrate, a steely glint in her eyes, my man was totally in with her. She blinked, clearly trying to reconcile her sudden attraction to him with her murderous tendencies. “Did you get that pick up line at Goodwill? 'Cause I'm not into charity cases.” That was a tad... unexpected. Was she a lesbian? Probably, probably. No matter, he'd picked up lesbians before... Like that chick at Fred's bachelor party. True, she'd turned out to be a, ah, courtesan, but it still counted! At least, that's what he'd told all his friends later. According to “Glitterpuss” and my front seat to that particular event, however, he'd fallen over and accidentally landed in her.. ahem. Several vodka shots and $100 later, he was definitely in there, though. If by “there”, you mean jail for hiring, and accidentally sexually assualting via directed-gravitational-misconduct, “Glitterpuss”.
Maybe I should introduce myself. I'm Zelpharion Budweiser Necramos. What's that, I hear you say? That's a ridiculously, extremely cliched fantasy name? Perhaps that's because I'm a demon, you ridiculous mortal. Oops, let the hellhound out of the bag a little early there. Anyway, judging by news stories nowadays, you're called stuff like “Veejay” and “Apple”. Apple. If being named after an electronics company isn't bad enough, you're also a fruit. A horrible fruit, really. Now, Zelpharion? It's a great name. I can be called “Z”, or “Zel”, or even “OH GOD OH GOD WHY” by mortals, which is dumb of you really, because I already know I'm a God to you guys, why keep saying it?
Okay, Budweiser, I'll admit isn't great, but that's what happens when your drunk grandfather bets the bartender $50 that he can ruin someone's life within ten minutes of knowing them. What, you didn't think demons had families? Were born? That's racist. Speciesist? Mythist? I don't know, but whatever it is, it ends with -ist and it doesn't begin with “Femin-”.