Green Grow the Rashes and Other Stories (8 page)

"No," Sheila said in a
whisper. "I am… was… a housewife. Just a housewife."

"Ahhh," Ballygrampus
said, and smiled again. Thin wisps of smoke came out of his ears.
"It’ll be Gluttony then."

Sheila
spluttered.

"I’ve looked after my
body! I’m very careful"

"I noticed," Ballygrampus
laughed. "But there is more than one kind of gluttony."

Smoke came out of his
nostrils.

"Let’s just
see."

The demon's eyes burned
with a gold flame as page after page of information scrolled up the
screen.

"Here’s the first…
December 29th 1973, 12.30 PM… two pairs of platform gold lame
boots… never worn."

The demon laughed again,
but this time it was a cold hard thing, and the hackles at the back
of Sheila’s neck began to rise.

"January 2nd 1983. Twelve
pairs of sandals - in a day? You must have been kind of
desperate."

Sheila didn't get a
chance to reply

The demon recited every
single piece of shoe shopping activity in her life.

"March 15th 1987 2 PM,
two pairs of strappy heels at 2:30 PM, and a pair of Cuban heeled
Cowboy boots at 5 PM. I think we're beginning to see a pattern
here."

The demon punched several
keys, and his eyes blazed as the result came up.

"Two thousand, two
hundred and thirty three counts of Gluttony. Congratulations, I
think you've got the record."

Talons rattled on keys as
another screen came up.

"The going rate is a week
for each offence. I'm sorry about that, but there are so many of
you around these days that we've had to get tough on you. I make
that forty-three years, give or take a week. Minus the five I owe
you, that makes thirty-eight years. Have a nice day."

Sheila blinked… and
looked out over the largest shoe store she’d ever seen.

"Well…
this
isn’t too bad," she whispered.

After a while she spotted
a pair of red stilletoes that would look just right with her new
dress.

She put them on and
paraded in front of a mirror.

"Oh, I
must
have these," she said.

They pinched a bit around
the toes, and, if truth be told were just starting to hurt at the
ankle.

She bent to take them
off… only to find that they had become molded onto her feet, the
skin already growing in thick folds over the shoes. The pain grew
to a hot flaring like a needle being thrust into her ankle again,
and again.

She tore frantically at
the shoes, but there was no way to remove them.

Somewhere, a demon
spoke.

"Thirty-seven
years, three hundred and sixty four days, and twenty-three
hours."

Sheila started to
scream.

~-o0O0o-~

AUTHOR'S
NOTE

If you're looking for a taster of my
work, this is who I am.

These seven short stories, all
previously published in magazines or anthologies, contain magic,
monsters, ghosts, history, beer, Scotland, scifi, fantasy, horror,
singing, more beer and fun.

This is who I am.

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