The Devil Likes Lemon Cupcakes

The Devil Likes My Collarbones

                                     »You're in my veins, you fuck.«

                                                     Kate Moss

»Arijan.«

»What?«

»My first wish.« I said.

»Mhm.« He hummed.

»It's tomorrow.«

»What is?« He asked.

»The party at his house.« I rolled my eyes. Don't you know anything?

»Mhm.« He hummed again.

»So?«

»What?«

I grunted and rolled off my bed. »How does this wish thing work?«

»I told you, it's not a wish, it's a request.« Lucifer said with his calm, yet authoritative voice.

»What's the difference anyway?« I got annoyed and started biting my nails. I always bite my nails when I get nervous, it distracts me.

He seemed so peaceful, sitting on my chair with his feet on my desk...His feet were huge. He probably needed to buy his shoes in one of those special shops. Does the devil buy shoes anyway? »A wish is something one gets with a flick of a finger; a request is something one helps to achieve. But I get your confusion, they're both one of primal human urges, something you desire, want.«

»So you can't just make Arijan like me?«

»No. Neither would I want to. And I don't think you would like it. See, when a person is forced to do something he grows dead inside. He rots from the inside out and all there's left is a hollow puppet for you to control. All things must have free will. Even god agrees with that. Besides, it's way more fun manipulating someone, in other words – it's not about the destination, but about the journey.« He answered while nonchalantly flicking the paper pages of his; my sinful book.

»I don't believe in god.«

»Oh?« He didn't seem too distressed.

»I'm an atheist. I know if one believes in the devil – which obviously exists,« I pointed towards him. »one must believe in god-«

»Why?«

»Because...« Wow, I actually didn't have an answer to that. »It's just something my mom said. She's a christian. A big one. I was raised in, her words – christian spirit, but I decided against it. I just didn't find god. I believe every person should have his or her own choice to choose a religion and that it wouldn't be just something you inherit, something that is forced upon you.«

»And how does your mother feel about that?«

What was he now, my shrink? »She doesn't like it. She thinks I'm gonna go to hell.« I laughed. »Oh, the irony. If she knew I'm talking to the devil, she'd probably try to exorcise me or something.«

»Religion was at first supposed to be a comfort for those who need it. But then people started exploiting its power, using it by commanding a flock of sheep incapable thinking for themselves. And a flock always follows the leader, like it would have only one pair of brain.«

From what I understood from his tone, he didn't really like religion. But then again, he was the king of hell. »What about satanists? You know, those people who worship you?«

He turned the page in an angry manner. »Those people do not worship me. They worship the idea of all that is evil in this world.« He stopped for a few seconds. »Besides, I don't see why would I like dismembered animal corpses.« He frowned his face in disgust and closed the book with a loud clap. He spined on my chair until he was facing me. »Right,« He leaned forward in his blue, worn-out hoodie. »your request.« He changed the subject.