(no subject)
"Ye... are from hell, and ye wan me to open a windle?" the old man at the gas station repeated slowly. "Are ye drunk or something, lad?"
The demon sighed and smacked his hand against his little horned head. He had no idea why this was happening. He was not due to come up human-side being just a newly minted minor demon, but still, he was relatively sure that just his appearance alone should be spreading chaos and mayhem amongst the general populace and not this... drunk business.
The demon tried again, "See this," he said, tapping at his horns sticking up against a tangle of black hair. "Real horns."
The old man sniffed, and picked up a photoframe and showed it to the demon. "See this," said the old man, tapping at the image of a young man, with assorted holes, ear studs, nose rings, lip rings, and ball bearings embedded under his skin all along his forehead. "My grandson."
"Oh," said the demon, just a little crushed.