Greg The Enraged Demon

Greg was trying to poke a kitten out from under a chair with a reversed sawed down shotgun in order to kill it, when it fired and blew his head off.  He never told me what the cat had done.  I doubt he liked to bring it up in conversation.
 In order to achieve greater status in Hell, he needed a replacement.  Due to my instability, depression, bouts of rage, and grave errors in judgement, he thought I was ripe for suicide.  He tried for months but failed.  He did not realize that if I was going to off myself then he was a day late and a dollar short.  I am able to live with disappointment quite well.  The time for self destruction has long since passed.  Now I can just wait and nature will do it for me, and not that long a wait, neither.

Hell does not suffer failure at all and I am afraid Greg is in for quite a time.  I haven't seen him around for a while.  He's a drag and a jerk.  Selfish, also.
Someday I may have a bar.  It will be the Sign of the Laughing Cats!

Louis Wain, who else?

 

 

I used to stop for a smoke break at Goliad on my way to the coast.  Greg, the demon bunny, is really pissed off that I will not kill myself so he can present me as a substitute and move on up the ladder in Hell.  But I figure why should I rush things just for some dumbass dead rabbit?  I had a bad scanner and a thing for huge tails when I drew this.
Greg is in a great deal of trouble.

 

 

Earlier I mentioned my problems with Greg, who needs a soul to replace him on the bottom rung of Hell before he can move up in the hierarchy.  Greg hates rockabilly, being strictly a heavy metal type when he was alive.  Here he discovers I have no intention of offing myself, and since he is stuck with me he has to listen to my music.  You have never seen a revenant so pissed off.

Blow me, Greg, go home and see if they will give you a second chance.

https://youtu.be/hM-QE9ZELzw

Let's romp and stomp.

 

     I dreamed I was in Paris, looking for some bunny named Dimitrios.  But bill posting is forbidden!  Greg says he is tired of my bullshit, and resents having to haunt me in dreams.  Apparently this is a great deal of trouble for the damned, like I care.  And the Hell with Greg. 

 

     "Oscar", I said, "Was Greg in here this morning"?
       He looked around, embarrassed.  He sorta coughed, sighed, and said, "Why, no, Billy, I haven't seen him today".
     I held a necklace against the light.  Lying bastard, I thought.  Oh well, this is the best place in town.  He is bound by some sort of ethics.  Never mind I saw the familiar truck pull out of Oscar's with two people in it, I'll deal with my erstwhile friend later.  I admired the gleam of the gold and enamel against my shining red fur.  Lovely.
     "Here you go,"  I said.  "I'll take it".
      Bunnies love shiny things.  And the world loves a handsome Rabbit!

     I can write fiction, I just don't want to.  I finished "Parson's Pleasure" by Roald Dahl this morning, and 35 years on it is still the most cold-blooded story I have ever read.  What a fucking genius he was.  

 

 

  In the background the demon prospect Greg is disgusted with my obvious pleasure in my own looks.  And of course the Sun does not approve!
     That underwear I bought at Savers Tuesday is way too tight, form-fitting, eye-catching and revealing.  Wonderful!  The world is dull enough without hot bunnies to look at.  In this way I improve the shining hour.
     (Greg completely disapproves of my self-centered happiness.  He is so mad he is smoking, which is just an ectoplasmic prop 'cause he can't taste anything.  I think he is jealous as hell that he is not the only stunning rabbit around, even if only me and the cats can see him.  He says I will pay on the other side if he has anything to do with it.  I don't need to point out that if he had anything to do with it he would not be here.  I am an assignment, not a hobby)!
I put this up while listening to "Blood Rave" by Crystal Method. 

https://youtu.be/F6VJQZxeWNY

 I love to shake it! 

   

 So all my clothes are worn out, ripped (and not in a good way) or lost.  At a Goodwill, a thrift I despise, I got a pair of like new jeans that fit me like a second skin, and are more like tights.  And tights work if you got the legs for 'em.  As Lucille Ball observed, the legs are the last to go.
   The demon prospect Greg is now facing having to wait for me to die on my own which means he has to wait to select another victim which means he has fucked up and Hell punishes failure.  Severely.  Anything that makes me just a little happier makes me a better person,...er...bunny and that makes things a lot worse for Greg.  Greg faces death by bakery oven and, as we all know, Hell hath no furry like a Bunny Sconed!  Oh my. (wipes tears of laughter out of merry green eyes).
   The Domesday-like tome I have a foot on symbolizes my rejection of a lifetime of obsessive historical reading, I won't call it research, in favor of enjoying looking good in the time I have left.
    The belt in the above is a plastic chinese made faux leopard print two inches wide that would frighten a drag queen.  I think it looks great!
     At least on me.

 

     Ever read "Dead Souls"?  Awesome.  Probably better in the original but my Russian is both limited, rusty, and useless.  I am off to Bastrop for coffee and groceries and may post when I get back.  My friend Greg says being dead does not hurt but I can tell he is bored with it.  I feel dead inside but he tells me that I am a fool.
     Well, duh!
      I'm back now.  Here is my new drawing.  Out on the deck last night, Greg told me about Hell.  I am getting sick of hearing about it and I think he is being awful fucking smug.  He says I am the worst assignment possible and he is looking forward to something else.  I told him I wasn't going to Hell and do you know what he said?
     "Ha Ha"!

 

   Boring, pointless, auto-erotic.  One more down, many to go.  Greg says I need to get it together, that hatred and ego are a volatile mix.  He ought to know.  How did you die and what were you doing, Hmmmm?  Get it together.
      We are now in "I Am Legend" weather, Billy gets home before dark.
      He makes sure of that.

 

  So much for completely pointless musings.  Well, this is my annual Christmas post, number 4.  Here the demon Greg has brought help in order to get me to off myself.  The other demon is quite large and ferocious, and would be terrifying if he had any power in this world, which he does not.  Time is about up for Greg.  This season is bad for demons as people are unusually kind and thoughtful.  He has been given plenty of time to come up with a substitute and he has not produced.  Hell punishes failure, severely.

Merry Christmas, Y'all!

 

   A dull year so far.  But not everyone is as blasé as I am about it.  Greg, the demon, is real angry that I won't do as he desires, and is getting loud about it.  Kill yourself, he screamed, and get it over with.  Your life is not worth living.  You are old and ugly.  I hate you.  Greg needs a replacement so he can move up the hierarchy in Hell, and selected me due to my depressive nature and meager prospects.  He didn't realize that my entire life has been like that and I ain't gonna freak out over it now.  Hell punishes failure severely, and I can see that Greg is blurring around the edges.  Looks like time's up for him.  I let him rant and wait for my nails to dry.  It just occurred to me that I am being followed by a six foot supernatural rabbit that no one else sees.  What a good idea for a play!  With a shriek he vanished and that was that for the Demon Bunny.  He was a rabbit just like me but without my good looks and sense of humor. 

      Greg was strung out one day in 1977 and got angry at a young cat.  While his old lady screamed at him, he tried to beat the cat to death with a sawed down shotgun.  When the cat hid under the couch, Greg tried to poke him out with the gun butt.  Bumping it on something fired both barrels and tore his head off.  The cat died of old age, the woman moved in with his dad, and detectives still show rookies photos of the scene while howling with laughter.

       Fort Worth is one hell of a town.  I resent dealing with underlings.  If The Man wants me he should show up himself, although I expect he has bigger fish to fry than me.

 When Billy saw no more of Greg the Enraged Demon, he thought that would be it.  Now a new annoyance has shown up, he seems to think that he can succeed where Greg left off.  At least he's a cat, Billy was feeling unoriginal about having a 6 foot tall supernatural rabbit that only he could see hanging around.  Billy's wondering if Holy Water would drive off an obvious demonic presence, but probably not.
I'm gonna wait this one out, the bunny thought.

 

I'll be damned if I gonna put up with anymore of this bullshit.