The Devil made me do it!

Of late I’ve been picking random posts of my site to read. Mainly because I want to see if my writing has improved any at all. I used to love the What If? Challenge and tried to come up with something fun and quirky each week. This was one of my favourites, so in a fit of nostalgia, I am going to repost it.

I left the original details in so you get the idea what the challenge was. This was written in 2013, I wish my little brain could still think like this!


whatifwww2

This weeks Whatif? Challenge

What if you let your dark side take over?

An unfortunate event has allowed the Devil to own your soul. He has decided to give you a chance to get it back but to win it you must bring a smile to the Devil’s face with your actions. He allows you to have one full day in which you can do anything your heart desires without fear of consequences, retaliation, retribution or prosecution.

An unusual turn of events indeed. I have been pondering this one for a few days, well since Sunday, when the challenge went up. No one willingly wishes to court the Devil, so the conundrum is, how best to tackle this unfortunate event and in fact turn it to your advantage.

The Devil dislikes my body, he has no option but to use it as a host, so will spend endless hours fashioning it into a more visually pleasing and competent, super human vessel. Even without the option of choice, I will secretly marvel at my new svelte frame and flowing strawberry blond (gingerish) locks, some things it seems just cannot be amended. From the array of clothes that my new figure opens the opportunity of, I will select a black all in one jumpsuit, that clings to every curve and makes both womens and men’s heads turn. “Who are you?” they will say, awed by my presence and I shall reply, “I am the Ginga Ninja, remember my name, for it will be the ruination of many.”

Black Widow

The Devil turns his gaze from me, just for a few minutes. It seems his addiction to Starbucks coffee is just the same as any mortals. His lapse in concentration affords me the chance to substitute the list of victims he has provided, with my own.

He bids me farewell, a wry smile on his face.  It would appear he does indeed derive great pleasure from a soul in torment. I have 3 hours in which to perform 3 kills, if I am to make the Devil smile and regain my soul.

11.59 am

I slip into an apartment block just west of Sudsly Avenue. It is run down and dingy. Rats scuttle at my feet as I read the names on the mail boxes. Smiling, I mentally note the number and proceed to climb the stairs, mumbling about the fact that his nibs did not consider flying as an option, when it could have been so helpful. Stubborn bloody man.

Two henchmen guard the door, but they are no match for the Ginga Ninja and I quickly dispense of them and hide their bodies in the broom cupboard, giggling to myself about the cliché of it all.

True to his form, Bubbles the Beast McGinn is in the bath. It takes him a minute to realise I am there. “My boss sent me” I say. I am instantly recognizable as soulless, so I am not surprised by the look of shock on his face as I push his head below the water, holding it there until the beast bubbles no more.

12.45 pm

Lunchtime – Kentucky Fried Chicken for a Boneless Banquet for One – Gravy as the side. What ffs??? A girls gotta eat. This assassination lark is not easy and besides my feet are killing me in these high heeled boots!

2.30 pm

Destination downtown Dumpsville. A laundromat on the corner of Persil Place. The sign in the window asks for young female workers, promising good benefits and competitive rates of pay. Rita the Rinser has been using the same ploy for years to lull young girls into her lair. She promises them the earth before she drugs them and sells them on as either prostitutes or slaves. I spy her loading washing into a huge clanking machine and quick as lightening I am behind her. Again she can sense I am soulless and visibly relaxes, that is until I whisper in her ear, “My boss sent me” and push her headlong into the machine, setting it for boil wash.

3.05 pm

A quick call into Manicures for the Mighty. I need to look in pristine condition for my next job, the last on my list.

3.45 pm

A prestigious fashion house. In full stealth mode I hitch a ride to the top floor hidden in a rack of clothes. I see my prey hunched over, pencil in hand, sketching out the new seasons trends. Saying not a single word I snap his neck like a twig.

4.15 pm

Grabbing a Starbucks I head back to ‘Satan’s Shack’ a prestigious gambling establishment I know he with the horns frequents. Sure enough, there he is surrounded by women and being fawned over by men. I step forward and offer the Starbucks.

Me: “I’m all finished, can I have my soul back please?”

Devil: “Why would you even ask such a stupid question, you have just killed two of my most loyal staff members, how could you ever imagine this would please me.”

Me: “I thought you knew everything ffs. Every night those two pray to God to forgive them for theirs sins. Every night their excuse is the same, ‘the devil made me do it’. In the end they were going to be detrimental to your business, and besides you’re going to save a fecking fortune on bubbles and soap powder.”

Devil: (sniggers) “Dam, you made me laugh, and by the terms of our agreement I must give you back your soul. Get out of my sight, I never wish to lay eyes on you again.”

Me: “Suits me. Any chance I can keep the body till the morning though?”

Devil: “GET OUT!!”

I figure my svelte figure could disappear at any second, so I decide to make as much as I can of the little time I have left and head to my local pub ‘The Pearly Gates’. Peter my favourite barman is on and after greeting me with a smile he pushes a pint of water across the bar to me.

Peter: “Busy day huh?”

Me: “Sure was. Is the boss happy?”

Peter: “Delighted, he’s been after those two for a while, however he did mention the fact that you deviated from the original plan and added in an extra assassination. There were only meant to be two.”

Me: “Yeah I know,”

Peter: “So enlighten me. The first two I can understand, but the third one has left me a little confused as well.”

Me: (shrugs shoulders) It was just for fun, and pretty simple really, the devil wears Prada.

 

 

Those Salad Days

The Daily Prompt asks:

Is there a period in your own personal life that you think of as the good old days? Tell us a story about those innocent and/or exciting times (or lack thereof).

It would be really easy for me to say that ‘the good old days’ were those before my leg injury and the onset of the Motherships dementia, but that would be a lie, because even back then things were far from perfect.

It would be really nice to say that it was the days before crippling worry and anxiety, but I can’t remember a time without them, and sadly my memory is not what it used to be.

I’d love to tell you it was my school days, but I was bullied. Retaining puppy fat and being somewhat ginger into your teens is a tough cross to bear. Hang in there though my ginger friends, because when you reach a certain age people will be matching your hair to the colour charts on the side of a box of hair dye because they admire it so much. Little do they know that these days mine is enhanced courtesy of one of those very same little boxes.

There is one constant though, life is shit, and it has lots of ups and downs, but everyday, there are still reasons to smile, even if you are so deep in shit that you can no longer see the tops of your wellies, there are still reasons to smile. For me, those are the good old days.

For my friends who ran barefoot with me on beaches and carried me home when I was drunk (thank feck I have strong friends). For the ones who made me laugh until a wee bit of wee came out and cried with me to acknowledge heartbreak. For the people I have loved and lost, whose memories will never die and for the nights under starry skies where you are thankful to be alive to witness it. For all my friends and family, a million and one reasons to smile.

Every moment, every event, every interaction, a memory that can be added into the album entitled ‘The Good Old Days’.

~Written for the Daily Prompt: Salad Days

 

 

The Devil made me do it!

whatifwww2

This weeks Whatif? Challenge

What if you let your dark side take over?
An unfortunate event has allowed the Devil to own your soul. He has decided to give you a chance to get it back but to win it you must bring a smile to the Devil’s face with your actions. He allows you to have one full day in which you can do anything your heart desires without fear of consequences, retaliation, retribution or prosecution.

An unusual turn of events indeed. I have been pondering this one for a few days, well since Sunday, when the challenge went up. No one willingly wishes to court the Devil, so the conundrum is, how best to tackle this unfortunate event and in fact turn it to your advantage.

The Devil dislikes my body, he has no option but to use it as a host, so will spend endless hours fashioning it into a more visually pleasing and competent, super human vessel. Even without the option of choice, I will secretly marvel at my new svelte frame and flowing strawberry blond (gingerish) locks, some things it seems just cannot be amended. From the array of clothes that my new figure opens the opportunity of, I will select a black all in one jumpsuit, that clings to every curve and makes both womens and men’s heads turn. “Who are you?” they will say, awed by my presence and I shall reply, “I am the Ginga Ninja, remember my name, for it will be the ruination of many.”

Black Widow
The Ginga Ninja looks a little like this!

The Devil turns his gaze from me, just for a few minutes. It seems his addiction to Starbucks coffee is just the same as any mortals. His lapse in concentration affords me the chance to substitute the list of victims he has provided, with my own.

He bids me farewell, a wry smile on his face.  It would appear he does indeed derive great pleasure from a soul in torment. I have 3 hours in which to perform 3 kills, if I am to make the Devil smile and regain my soul.

11.59 am

I slip into an apartment block just west of Sudsly Avenue. It is run down and dingy. Rats scuttle at my feet as I read the names on the mail boxes. Smiling, I mentally note the number and proceed to climb the stairs, mumbling about the fact that his nibs did not consider flying as an option, when it could have been so helpful. Stubborn bloody man.

Two henchmen guard the door, but they are no match for the Ginga Ninja and I quickly dispense of them and hide their bodies in the broom cupboard, giggling to myself about the cliché of it all.

True to his form, Bubbles the Beast McGinn is in the bath. It takes him a minute to realise I am there. “My boss sent me” I say. I am instantly recognizable as soulless, so I am not surprised by the look of shock on his face as I push his head below the water, holding it there until the beast bubbles no more.

12.45 pm

Lunchtime – Kentucky Fried Chicken for a Boneless Banquet for One – Gravy as the side. What ffs??? A girls gotta eat. This assassination lark is not easy and besides my feet are killing me in these high heeled boots!

2.30 pm

Destination downtown Dumpsville. A laundromat on the corner of Persil Place. The sign in the window asks for young female workers, promising good benefits and competitive rates of pay. Rita the Rinser has been using the same ploy for years to lull young girls into her lair. She promises them the earth before she drugs them and sells them on as either prostitutes or slaves. I spy her loading washing into a huge clanking machine and quick as lightening I am behind her. Again she can sense I am soulless and visibly relaxes, that is until I whisper in her ear, “My boss sent me” and push her headlong into the machine, setting it for boil wash.

3.05 pm

A quick call into Manicures for the Mighty. I need to look in pristine condition for my next job, the last on my list.

3.45 pm

A prestigious fashion house. In full stealth mode I hitch a ride to the top floor hidden in a rack of clothes. I see my prey hunched over, pencil in hand, sketching out the new seasons trends. Saying not a single word I snap his neck like a twig.

4.15 pm

Grabbing a Starbucks I head back to ‘Satan’s Shack’ a prestigious gambling establishment I know he with the horns frequents. Sure enough, there he is surrounded by women and being fawned over by men. I step forward and offer the Starbucks.

Me: “I’m all finished, can I have my soul back please?”

Devil: “Why would you even ask such a stupid question, you have just killed two of my most loyal staff members, how could you ever imagine this would please me.”

Me: “I thought you knew everything ffs. Every night those two pray to God to forgive them for theirs sins. Every night their excuse is the same, ‘the devil made me do it’. In the end they were going to be detrimental to your business, and besides you’re going to save a fecking fortune on bubbles and soap powder.”

Devil: (sniggers) “Dam, you made me laugh, and by the terms of our agreement I must give you back your soul. Get out of my sight, I never wish to lay eyes on you again.”

Me: “Suits me. Any chance I can keep the body till the morning though?”

Devil: “GET OUT!!”

I figure my svelte figure could disappear at any second, so I decide to make as much as I can of the little time I have left and head to my local pub ‘The Pearly Gates’. Peter my favourite barman is on and after greeting me with a smile he pushes a pint of water across the bar to me.

Peter: “Busy day huh?”

Me: “Sure was. Is the boss happy?”

Peter: “Delighted, he’s been after those two for a while, however he did mention the fact that you deviated from the original plan and added in an extra assassination. There were only meant to be two.”

Me: “Yeah I know,”

Peter: “So enlighten me. The first two I can understand, but the third one has left me a little confused as well.”

Me: (shrugs shoulders) It was just for fun, and pretty simple really, the devil wears Prada.