This spring, Hoss and I went to the local university’s queer formal. It was a pretty normal thing: lots of queers dancing and screaming to songs that were in a grey zone of being incredibly gay while not being gay enough. If I can’t recognize the singer, you need to up the gay. I drank some cake-flavored vodka in a parking lot with a genderfuck and stood around smoking, while amateur drag queens and a tiny little Amadeus climbed up the steps. Hoss and I aren’t much for dancing, so we headed home. On the way out, I think he dared me to or I just have the natural inclination to steal things (shrug), but I grabbed a life-size Hello Kitty balloon on the way out. We ran down the street with her trailing behind us in the wind, shoved her into the car, and drove to Hoss’s apartment where she has remained ever since.
But in all seriousness, this is not something to be taken lightly. Hoss’s apartment was clearly haunted before, what with the flickering light bulbs and the Wilhelm screams, and we clearly just gave the demon a vessel.
As time passed, Kitty-san’s power grew. Three weeks ago, I was alone in the apartment writing, and she was just hopping around the room, floating around the kitchen. One time, when I looked up, she was gone. This naturally made me nervous, so I went to look for her, figuring that it was better to know where a demon is than to not know. She had floated into the bedroom, looking into the closet with those uncannily wide set eyes. She probably wanted my leather daddy jacket, if I had to guess. She follows me around the house as I get ready every morning. Since basically everyone who lives in the apartment is MIA, Kitty-san the demon is our new roommate. Visitors regularly punch her and tackle her, putting our very immortal souls in danger.