Conversations With Myself
(Between Hailz and Luca)
"So where exactly is this 'Highway to Hell?'" Luca asks me lazily, using air quotes, while keeping a trained eye on Mags.
I roll my eyes, even though he won't notice. "Highway to Hell? How trite of you," I reply, the sarcasm dripping off of me like blood on the fangs of a rabid wolf.
"Why is it that when anyone who's not an Underworlder thinks of the many ways to get to Hades, AC/DC is the only thing that comes to mind?"
All I receive in return is a nonchalant shrug of the shoulders from the Elf. I may have his ears, but the damsel in distress has all of his attention. My foot gets an itch. So, I kick out at the leg of the chair Luca was leaning back on. I don't like being ignored.
Flat on his back and caught by surprise, the Keebler Elf spewed out a colorful array of adjectives.
I hunched over his supine figure and hold a small knife over his throat. Now that I had a captive audience, I continued on, with a smile. "Doesn't Pathway to Perdition, Event Horizon of Evil, or even Boulevard of Broken Souls, sound much better?"
Confusion etches its way onto Luca's face in the form of the creases on his forehead. "What are you talking about?" he asks, incredulously.
Speaking of colorful adjectives, I think I hit every color in the known spectrum in reply. I move my knife to my non-dominate hand before I punch him in the face. I stand up and walk away, my daily quota for violence hardly sated.