Time on your hands

The night isn't easy, since you don't sleep anymore, you're left to your own devices, and the riddle of what the demon said. And you don't know what he was hinting at. You don't even know much about demons other then what the demon has already done and what you inadvertently discover. You sense desires, and apparently gluttony itself is intoxicating. You can influence dreams apparently. You are really strong and durable. And if you have the same 'powers' you can probably multiply the results of a 'indulgence' with that tongue thing, though your not willing to test that one out. There's probably more the demon didn't tell you, which is scary considering your position, but mulling over it again and again only gives you a headache, so eventually you give it a break and try something else.

You read a few books to get your mind off it, go ahead and clean up the house, try out a few exercises to get a gauge of your physical abilities (F.Y.I. you can jump as high as the house). Then, as the morning approaches, you decide to cook breakfast for Albert and Fred.

You grab some eggs and bacon from the fridge, a pan from the cupboard, some butter and soon they are sizzling in the pan. You smell it... and gag. This should smell delicious, but it is not appealing in the least, a reminder that normal food is not your thing anymore. Still, this isn't for you anyway, so you do your best to eyeball them so they don't burn.

You soon hear Fred and Albert waking up, and have a plate of Bacon and a Plate of eggs ready for them as they come downstairs. Fred blinks at how the house looks. "Morning, I made breakfast," you say. "Did you clean up last night?" Fred asks, sitting down at the table.

"Well... I don't really sleep anymore, so I had a lot of spare time." you admit, "On the plus side, fresh breakfast." you says. Albert gags a little, "Uh... no thanks," he says, clearly still recovering from yesterday. You can see that his stomach is still bloated, maybe not as tight, but not ready for anything else for a while.

"Well, more for me," says Fred, digging in.

"I hope it's not burnt," you say, "I can't smell or taste it properly, so I had to guess."

"It's fine," says Fred, "It's not that hard to cook eggs."

Written by an anonymous author

Albert need Alka-seltzer

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