Pearlan had been sucking for 30 minutes straight... however weird that sounded. He'd declared war on a stubborn piece of shit that bombarded his nostrils with noxious smells from its toilet trench and now stood victorious, raising his plunger triumphantly like a rifle. He was lucky that it hadn't blown itself up, like a Middle Eastern turd would... or else he wouldn't have the, uh, dissatisfaction of breaking it into pieces and fishing out the jewelry.
"Here ya go... one diamond ring, hot and fresh from the crapper," the glorified janitor remarked dryly.
"Ohhh! Thanks so much!~" the woman replied, her pupils gleaming with gratitude. Or were those glistening yen signs? With his nose nearly crinkling his eyes shut, Pearlan couldn't tell.
So when the lady gave him a quick peck on the face, he didn't know if it was a genuine expression of thanks or a typical gold digger's coquetry. She'd probably put her lips anywhere, now that she was single. Yet despite all these considerations, Pearlan's face still changed from pale white to bright red. He'd love to go further and piledrive her like a construction worker, but he'd exhausted his stamina exorcising a stinky demon from her toilet bowl.
"Though, if I were selling this ring, I probably shouldn't tell them that it was in my husband's digestive tract..." she pondered aloud.
"Nah, what makes diamonds valuable is that they endured lots of pressure somewhere deep underground," the royal disputed, half-joking and probably half-serious, since his complicated brain came up with the most ridiculous things. "So all that extra force your ring experienced in there probably shot up the value like we did the Russians a few years back."
"You know..." the woman stared at him quizzically, "...that sounds like bullshit."
"Still not as bad as your husband's," Pearlan quipped in response, "but can you blame me? The one who writes my lines is a master bullshitter herself."
That's what the Duke conceded, but over the course of the next week, he completed more odd jobs just like this one, building rapport with people all across town and making a surprisingly honest living. It was all part of his diabolical plot, of course.
~~~
Pearlan's villainous scheme was running smoothly, and the money flowed the same. The quantity of coins and bills had swelled to the point that he was being shoved out of his own hovel, like a tenant who'd paid the rent but was still getting evicted. Unlike that massive shit iceberg he'd sucked out a week ago, this paper behemoth was something he had to force down, contain in a chest, and seal away for future use.
As a result, he'd expanded the size of his dilapidated hut to fit a vault, an icebox, a brick stove, a skewer rack, and himself. Now that his evil plan was coming together, so were the pieces of his smile that a grueling week of unwanted jobs had scattered across his tired face. He regained some of his old pep, though he wasn't yet shouting at the top of his lungs like a maniac. That was something he did when he realized he wasn't passing out, and when old ladies said gross things after hitting him with frying pans.
He'd had enough kitchenware for one day, quickly changing the subject in his mind. Now that the usual crowd of customers had dispersed, the royal closed his stall for the night, sighed after another day's work, and undid his apron. No more stupid brains to wash and hungry mouths to feed, he mused to himself.
Or so he'd thought. As Pearlan discerned how to fit the panel into the window, he heard the low, feral growl of a starved demon. Though he and his minions were sophisticated creatures who made no such sounds, this one was unmistakable. Unbothered, the Duke patiently rested the screen against the wall of his shelter and climbed out of the window to investigate. But there was neither anything to decipher nor any crime scenes where he'd need to tread carefully.
The demon was standing right in the center of town, foaming at the mouth, snarling at the royal, drawing all eyes toward him on the sparsely populated street. But the breaths he drew were less spaced out, short and shuddering, frequent and trembling with hunger. His constant, determined inhales were more than enough to send the townsfolk who'd been calmly enjoying the evening into a panic.
"That's a demon!"
"A demon?!"
"He'll devour us all!"
"Climb the stairs to the clock tower and sound the bell!"
"But the clock tower is in desperate need of repair! Nobody goes up there anymore! It's dangerous!"
"So you're saying it's safer down here?!"
"Everyone run for it! Lock your doors! Board up your windows! Get out of the streets!"
"Hey Pearlan, get out of there!"
Many of the locals knew his name by now, for they'd seen his devious machinations in their subtlest forms... when he'd gone into their homes, fixed their pipes, painted their walls, cobbled their shoes, and mended their floors. What puzzled him was that they were screaming in fear at a lesser demon, yet didn't recognize his stronger self standing before them. That might've been because his cloak had concealed his horns when he'd last entered their dwellings, or because he hadn't yet taken off his bandana.
Most likely, the air had become so thick with the ravenous demon's bloodlust, setting every pair of eyes atremble as if slowly working them out of their sockets and sucking them toward his drooling maw, that there was no way the nonchalantly observing Duke could compete. The rabid beast leapt into the sky and wound his sharp claw back, prepared to crash down on Pearlan and disembody his head. But his nails dug deep into the earth instead, his target having hopped back.
"I CRAVE..." the enraged demon bellowed. "I CRAVE... HUMAN FLEEEEEEEEEEEEEESH! YOU... GET OUT OF MY WAY!"
"Oh, you can talk. Didn't think you could, judging from appearances. Damn. I'm usually the one pulling the race card and complaining when people do it to me. What even is today?" Pearlan asked rhetorically. "Look, I'll make you some kebabs, so calm the hell down."
"I... WANT... BLOOD... NOW!"
"Well okay, I'll cook them medium r-"
How rude that a common monster would lunge at a royal midsentence! Perhaps this one was recently turned, or driven to madness by malnutrition, or was one of those poor bastards who'd clung to his humanity but ultimately succumbed to his demon instincts. He clearly didn't recognize Pearlan. But he came at him with the killing intent one would harbor for a sworn enemy, swiping at his head, placing uppercuts on a path toward his stomach, brushing his shoulders, and grazing his sides. Eveldauer dodged every blow, getting under his attacker's sickly green skin, pushing him to work harder and resort to progressively absurd motions. The untiring demon showed off his impressive athleticism, again propelling himself into the air and landing behind Pearlan, trying to surprise him from every angle, getting knocked back and charging at the slippery chameleon once more.
"I offer you free kebabs..." the colored demon seethed under his breath, "...AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME?!"
He'd lost it. He'd grown weary of toying with this snarling mutt and angry that another one of his kind had intruded upon his new hunting ground. Had he been a powerless human, the knuckles of his clenched fist would've turned white, but they instead assumed his enemy's hue. This, however, didn't inspire any sense of brotherhood in the angry devil. Pearlan might as well have changed color a second time and whipped his dick out like a red flag, because the unhinged demon rushed him like a mad bull.
"Remember this in your last moments on this planet, unless your brain's all mush and you can't even store information for a few seconds..." the purple-skinned, green-handed royal solemnly said. "I AND I ALONE WILL DEVOUR THE PEOPLE OF THIS TOWN, WITH A GENIUS STRATEGY THAT I AND I ALONE CAN EXECUTE!"
He passed his hand through the starved creature's chest, stopped in his heart, and suddenly altered his complexion.
"Do you know what this does?" Pearlan asked, as bits of skin were pasted against his face like shreds of a popped balloon. "At first, my hand phases through your matching skin like it doesn't exist. When I take on a different color while inside you, though... it suddenly exists again… and your entire body is displaced like water. Insta-death!"
He was only saying this because he loved hearing the sound of his own voice. The demon had already burst into ribbons, the sudden reappearance of the Duke's hand sending a ripple through his body and shaking him to his core. His devastating color-changing powers were an egregious violation of the laws of space, but this lowly intruder had violated Pearlan's space first.
"And that's... how you slay a demon," he concluded unassumingly.
But the townspeople, who had cowered behind crates, curtains, and buildings, erupted in cheers. They poured out of their hiding spots like furious ants and swarmed their unlikely savior, no store counter protecting him now. As they pulled on his cloak, hoisted him onto their hands, and tossed him into the air, the transracial demon remembered how strong these people were, even the elderly among them, especially the elderly among them. What hurt him the most, however, was his newfound status as a hero, which guaranteed him the citizens' unfaltering trust but denied him the chance to enjoy an evil reputation. So the celebration was bittersweet and disturbing, strips of the slain demon raining down like morbid confetti.
