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Two little imps lurked in a shadowy corner of the unassuming living room. I do mean imps in the literal sense, by the way; these were not some vexatious little children to whom the term “imp” might easily apply. No, these were imps in the very real, mythological sense of the word, and they lurked in most lurid fashion. The devilish fiends, their small bodies covered in feathers and scales and hair and all sorts of unsightly abnormalities, plotted and schemed mischievously. While their stay would be brief, they agreed that their machinations would be burned into the memories of all involved that night. Only the intermittent grimace or cackle interrupted their unholy gathering.

The living room was part of an apartment that was currently empty, aside from its unwelcome guests. It was not long before a car could be heard pulling up to the apartment building, a door open and close, and scattered stirrings rise from the floor below. In fact, it was none other than the current resident of the apartment, a young gentleman by the name of Christopher Harn. He was returning from work, and was dreaming at the moment of feasting on the faux-ethnic cuisine he had ordered from a nearby Chinese food restaurant. I’d like to note that this restaurant in particular was the worst in the area by far, but his quick attachment to restaurants and hearty appetite for egg rolls had resulted in this fact being gravely overlooked. His youthful appearance was only enhanced by a growing need for a haircut, and his face was mildly sunburnt.

With Christopher on his way up, absentmindedly fantasizing about devouring egg rolls, the two imps had little time to work. They put their plan into motion with truly shocking speed and efficiency, and their vile trap was set by the time Chris opened the front door. He flipped the nearby light switch, as he always did upon entering at night, but to his surprise nothing happened. Frustrated that the energy efficient lightbulb he’d bought had already died, he cautiously made his way towards the broom closet to get a fresh bulb. Suddenly his left foot met with a precariously placed wooden box, the grand linchpin of the imp’s vile plan.

“Ow...ouch! Damn it! What the hell is this doing here? Ow! That is a bad stub. What the hell is this doing here?!”

The imps, their unsavory mission accomplished, silently congratulated each other in their flawless victory. As Chris shuffled into the kitchen, flipping on all of the lights in frustration, the imps performed a quick post-evil-deed evaluation. Having filled out their official forms of malevolence, they disappeared back to...wherever it is imps go to relax. The daily life of imps is not well chronicled. Regardless, Chris fixed the light just as his food arrived. As with his arrival, he was in for a bitter disappointment. 

Created: Apr 25, 2012


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