Saturday, September 29, 2007

Mud Pies

I remember Harold when he was six. The park had a sandpit then. Those were the days before EU regulations decreed that sand has to be sterilised before any use involving those not wearing regulation safety gear.

Playing in used sand never hurt Harold. His sand castles, facilitated by the application of several buckets of water into the sand before he started, were the envy of all the other children; most of whom had never even heard of the History Channel.

This went on until someone replaced his model of Tintagel with a mud pie. He never made another after that, not after he’d been trying to effect the reconstruction with the mud only to discover that it had been left him not, as he’d thought, by a kindly benefactor but by an off-the-leash St. Bernard.

Age before Beauty

Ada looks sixty if she’s a day. In actual fact if she drops the spell that maintains her appearance, she looks young enough to be her son’s daughter. As a fae, she can control her ageing – even when she’s in her advanced years (300 or so) she can make herself look as young as a nymph.

Not so in the mortal realm. On a busy street like The Terrace people notice if you don’t age. That’s why it takes her so long to answer the door; she’s quite literally putting on her face – that of a sexagenarian.

Friday, September 21, 2007


Jasfoup smiled.

“You found the genie on September the twenty third,” he said. “After that every wish that was uttered within his hearing became a reality including the one on September the twenty-fifth where we wished it was back in his pocket on the original morning.”

Harold frowned. “But it went back into his pocket, how did we have it to wish it was back in his pocket?”

Jasfoup shrugged. “Don’t knock it,” he said. “It worked, didn’t it? Now pass me that book of Milton so that I can copy it out and send it to him to write in the first place.”

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Pride and Falls

Lucifer sat on the edge of a cloud and watched the world go by. Without interference, the earth slipped slowly around on its axis. He’d taken a brief interest in China when they’d begun to build a wall, first with earthworks and palisades, then with stone. You could see their progress all the way up here.

Gabriel dropped down beside him. “I hear you’ve been conducting experiments with your mortal form,” he said.

Lucifer cocked one eyebrow. “Who told you that?” Gabriel felt it was his duty to report on the off-duty activities of all the angels and would often invent things and then try to confirm them.

“Michael,” he said.

“Oh yes?” Lucifer returned his gaze to the earth below, where the middle ease hove into view. “What sort of experiments?” If Michael had indeed told him, Gabriel would not want to risk the sin of naming it.

“Just… body stuff.” He looked embarrassed, which more or less proved that he knew. “Oh!” you got a loose feather.” He plucked out the offending article and held it out. “Make a wish.”

I don’t need to,” Lucifer said. “I already have everything I want.”

Gabriel let the feather fly. Lucifer watched it before he realised which it was. “Hey,” He said. “That was one of my flight feathers.”

“Whoops! Sorry.” Gabriel’s smile indicated he was anything but. Lucifer felt a sharp pain as he tugged the other one free, and then his push.

Heaven receded as he fell, but he could just make out Gabriel’s voice.

“Michael is mine.”

Friday, September 14, 2007

A Slight Problem

“You did what?” Harold stared at the demon his face a wide ‘O’ of astonishment.

“Gotjulllpnantgen” Jasfoup mumbled, his right foot tracing small circles on the floor.

“You got Julie pregnant again? Harold held his face in his hands. “How?”

It was the demon’s turn to look astonished. “You don’t know?” he said. “What do you and Gillian do all night?”

“I didn’t mean the mechanics,” said Harold. “I meant… I thought you used… um…hats?”

“I did.” Jasfoup pulled it out of his pocket. “It didn’t work.”

Harold stared at it. “You not supposed to make it out of paper.”

Three Rings


Harold clicked the right mouse button another thirty times in case the computer decided he wasn’t worth the trouble.

“What?” The demon came into the office, drying his hands on a tea towel marked A Present from Blackpool. “I’m a bit busy.”

“This website says I’m not authorised to view it.” Harold clicked retry several more times.

Jasfoup peered over his shoulder. “You’ve got child protection on,” he said. “What’s the website?” He leaned over and turned the safety lock off.

Harold at least had the decency to look embarrassed. “I was thinking of getting a piercing,” he said.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Long Shadows

Jim’s shadow never seemed to fit. However close he came to the surface upon which his shadow was cast, his fingers always seemed longer, his head a little too small.

As a child he found it amusing, but his embarrassment grew with age to the point where he would avoid going out in full sun and avoided rooms with harsh lighting. Not that anyone ever noticed. Only Jim could see the antics of his shadow.

By the time he was fourteen his parents had discovered that their beautiful child had a problem. His shifts in behaviour occurred around the time of every full moon. Child psychiatrists were no help and when he killed the family pet they gave up and threw him out. His long shadows had been an early indication of his true nature: Jim was a lycanthrope.

Monday, September 10, 2007

I taught Don Juan Everything...

You don’t often get a demon like me. “Jasfoup?” I’m often asked. “How did you come by your prowess in the bedchamber?

I’m liable to smile and shake my head. Modesty, contrary to popular opinion, is not a virtue. Since it’s designed to draw even more attention to oneself, it’s practically a sin.

“Practice,” I’ll say if pressed. “I’ve had five hundred years of practice, including a stint of being Warden of the Succubae. I studded all of them in the half-century of working there.

Of course, they don’t believe me and that just gives me all the more practice.

Sunday, September 09, 2007

Vote for Jasfoup, please.

A note from Rachel - Jasfoup's chronicler:

You can make one vote a day...

Diary entry competition. Hop on over to Discover Adam
and vote for your favourite diary entry. I happen to be number three and a vote for me would be nice (remember, you'd be voting for Jasfoup) but if you prefer another I won't mind. Much.

The daft thing is that I already have a copy of the prize and will give it away afterwards. It's the publicity for Jasfoup that I'm really after. With enough votes I might get a publisher to buy the rights to his blog at

Saturday, September 08, 2007

Jim Shorts


Jasfoup grinned apologetically. “Would you come and have a look at Harold, please. He seems to have passed out from the exercise.”

“Really?” The vampire raised an eyebrow. “That’s odd. He can normally keep it up for a couple of hours without a break.”

“I didn’t need to know that.” The demon led the way to Harold’s suite. “I bought him the Jim shorts you suggested but he didn’t last more than half an hour.”

They reached the room and she rushed to her partner, reeling when she caught a whiff of his breath. “I asked you to get him gym shorts,” she said, her eyes hardening into coals. “Not bourbon.”

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

Proof Denies Faith

Harold closed the door and hid behind the frame, peering out between the letterbox and the open/closed sign. “I can’t see her,” he said.

“Who?” Jasfoup sauntered across and stood in full view of the window, supporting his mug of tea with both hands as he inhaled the steam. “I can’t see anyone.”

“Good.” Harold relaxed. “It was a religious freak,” he said. “She wanted me to see God.”

“Oh you didn’t…” Jasfoup looked amused.

“I did.” Harold grinned sheepishly. “I couldn’t help it. I said I’d already seen him and that he cheated at chess.”

“I bet that went down well.”

“Not really.” Harold missed the sarcasm. “She denounced me as a heretic. I’ve got a bunch of Mormons wanting to lynch me now.”