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3.

Johanna sighed to herself and pushed the ratings report away from her in frustration. The Giggly Wigglies were still the number one kid’s show in their time slot, meaning the guys upstairs would be pleased. Pleasing them meant a big bonus come the holidays, something that most producers would look forward to. Johanna would look forward to it too, but not until after she got back from her next meeting. She stood, bone weary, and forced her feet to move. She hated visiting what the industry deemed ‘the talent’. Her black leather heels clicked all the way down the corridor to the elevator.

One green nail jabbed at the button with acquiescent hate. It was late enough that no one else was in the building and a car showed up quickly, taking her upstairs to the Giggly Wigglies domain.

The entrance area off of the elevator was done in bright primary colors, full of swirls and sudden streaks of color, all of it having cost a fortune to design; molded to bring out endless amounts of joy in children, a feeling of play and safety and happiness. She marched through the space right past the waiting area full of plastic toys and dolls, all of it Giggly Wiggly merchandise available in the gift shop downstairs, and knocked on a bright blue door marked ‘Employees Only’ set into the far right corner. She heard a muffled greeting through the door and stepped inside. Grinkle looked up from his cards and caught her gaze with his own solid purple eyes. “About damned time,” he snarled at her, once again trying to cower her. Though a small flutter in the pit of her stomach threatened fear, as it always did, the rest of her was cold and hard.

“You guys wanted to see me?” She stepped further into the room, letting the door close behind her, her stride full of intent.

“We need more kids,” Tamburto complained, tossing down his cards. Johanna grabbed a spare chair and pulled it over to the table, making sure she sat within arms reach of Grinkle, showing him exactly how little she feared him or any of them.

“Look,” she sighed, exasperated, “we’ve been over this. If we up the numbers again someone is bound to notice. I can get you a dog or two, but that’s the best I can do right now.”

“Hey, fuck your dogs.” Grinkle turned on her, his chair squeaking under his sudden shift of weight, “Dogs! Come on Jo’, did I say we needed some pets or did I say we needed more kids?”

“And did I say,” Johanna leaned forward an inch, “I could or could not arrange kids right now? This is the deal we had, if I could do better I would.”

“Maybe we’re sick of the deal,” Snorktasm peeped suddenly. She leaned back in her chair after she spoke, satisfied with herself for coming out and saying it.

“Yeah well, maybe I am too,” Johanna admitted, “but it doesn’t mean we can change it, now does it?”

“Listen,” whispered Bobble Wobble, his voice sounding like a bag full of snakes writhing, “when your father called us here…” Johanna had to admit to herself, if there was going to be one of them to fear, it was Bobble Wobble. She twitched her left foot in response and turned to him.

“When my father called you here,” she said evenly, “he wanted you to take over the world for him. I know. This is hardly news. We all know,” she turned slowly, taking in each of them in turn, “his plan didn’t work. But you agreed to behave in exchange for what you have and I’ve made. It. Work.” Silence drifted over the room in a solid sheet of nothingness. Finally Grinkle broke the spell with the slam of a fist into the table, the surface wobbling under the sudden force.

“Behave?!” He started to stand in his rage and it was only a glance from Bobble Wobble that stopped him, “We aren’t your pets, to lock in a closet when you don’t want to deal with us, human! We’re fucking well demons.”

“Lesser demons,” Johanna pointed out, unfazed. Grinkle lost his temper whenever he knew he had lost an argument.

“We’re still far more than you’ll ever be,” Tamburto pointed out softly, not wanting to get involved, but knowing he had to. Johanna stood up and walked towards the door, turning her back on the quartet.

“You just remember,” she said over her shoulder, “what your oaths mean, and what will happen if you cross them, or me.” She left them, the door snapping shut smartly behind her. She got into the elevator before she let herself begin to shake, knowing they would sense it if she had lost control any sooner. One thing she did know, and admitted to herself as she returned to her office, she had to get them at least one kid fast. They were bound to obey, but the agreement had room for play, and she didn’t need them working that out. Better they think she caved a little to maintain the peace.

Upstairs four demons, lesser or not, brooded and began, for the first time in a long time, to plan.

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…After These Messages is copyright Adam P. Knave.