Hellraisers
“Pan sighed, looking over her shoulder at Herc. He was sitting at a bank of computers in the back of the van, his scarred forehead furrowed as he focused on a stream of data on one of the monitors. She put her hands behind her head, struggling to stay awake in the stream of golden light that poured through the windshield.
“You know, Herc,” she said, “the fact that you say stuff like that is one of the reasons nobody likes you.”
“I thought everybody liked me,” he said, pouting. “I’m the life and ...soul of the party.”
“You couldn’t be the life and soul of the party if the party was full of demons,” she said. Then, when he didn’t reply, “You know, because demons don’t have lives or souls.”
“Pan, it isn’t really a joke if you have to explain it,” he said, smudging a palm across the screen as if he could somehow change what was written there. “Seriously, though, we’ve got a hit. What do you think?”
Pan reluctantly got to her feet, and moved to the back of the van.MoreLess
“You know, Herc,” she said, “the fact that you say stuff like that is one of the reasons nobody likes you.”
“I thought everybody liked me,” he said, pouting. “I’m the life and ...soul of the party.”
“You couldn’t be the life and soul of the party if the party was full of demons,” she said. Then, when he didn’t reply, “You know, because demons don’t have lives or souls.”
“Pan, it isn’t really a joke if you have to explain it,” he said, smudging a palm across the screen as if he could somehow change what was written there. “Seriously, though, we’ve got a hit. What do you think?”
Pan reluctantly got to her feet, and moved to the back of the van.MoreLess
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