There’s a demon-boy lives in the basement. Don’t know where he came from but it’s clear he isn’t leaving soon. It bothers me sometimes, knowing he’s there. No one else seems to notice him; he’s kind of sneaky. Once in a while when I go down there I see him face to face. He wears a sneer and doesn’t disguise his ill-intent.
One time I tried to reason with him. Actually, more than once. Several times. Many, many times. I tried to make him understand he couldn’t live here. But there is no reasoning with the irrational. Once I realized this, I began to ignore him. I pretend he isn’t there. I tell myself he will leave of his own accord if I don’t give him any attention. But I have to go down on occasion and check if he is still there.
I have a friend who believes too, he’s down there. He believes because he has a demon-boy living in his basement. He suggests befriending the creature. Embrace that which is evidently meant to be part of my life. I can’t quite bring myself to do that. Being part of my life is one thing, but to become my life is something else.
I decided to take drastic measures. I burnt the house down. He escaped. When I built a new house, it was so much like the old one I guess he figured he was welcome to move back in. I tried flooding the basement. He just moved upstairs. It got pretty awkward when friends came over. So, I fixed up the basement. Put in some carpeting, paneled the walls, got a sofa. I hang out down there sometimes. It has made him suspicious. I think he senses I’m waiting for him to drop his guard. Waiting for an opportunity to get behind him and do him in. But he’s wily; always quick to guess my next move. It’s become a game. He does provide a diversion from the hum-drum of the everyday routine but I hate that little sucker. Who does he think he is, coming in here and messing around in my life?
I’ve started telling people about him. He doesn’t seem to like it. I took someone down to see him but he wasn’t home. I thought maybe he had moved out. But his stuff was still there. He comes by now-and-then to say hello. So I figure the best plan is to make my place someplace he doesn’t like. Maybe then he’ll go away; find somebody else to live with.
I read somewhere how to get rid of unwanted guests. Simply follow a few easy steps and the problem is gone. But it is difficult to apply those methods to my own demon-boy. I mean, whatever else he is – he’s mine. If I don’t obsess over him, he’s really more of a nuisance than anything. I’ve certainly gotten accustomed to his being here. There’s a certain uneasiness when he’s gone. But then, I’m not really comfortable when he’s here either.
That’s the hard part; the constant uneasiness. I can hear his little murmurs and grumblings. I can hear him at night moving around down there. Restless. He’s up to something. When he’s gone it’s no better. I know that tomorrow – or the next day – he’ll be back. The anticipation of his return is worse than his being here. At least when he’s here I know where he is. I can plan for his intrusions; work around his agenda. Manage him. Oh, he’d think that funny. I can just see his smug little nasty sneer. The bubbles of saliva between his broken black and yellow teeth. The contempt I would see in his watery, bloodshot eyes; contempt exactly equal to that which I have for him.
Ah-ha! I’ve just realized something. He needs me more than I need him. If he were gone for good, I might miss him, but I’d get along fine. He, on the other hand, has nowhere to go. He’d be - nobody. I could make a family room in the basement. Have people over and watch the Super Bowl. OK - that’s it. That thing has got to go. Enough is enough. I will be free.