Here follows the tale of Demonko, first posted by a guy called
Meister on another board, many years ago:
Little did I realize that I'd end up living with a demon. After all, it was a scant year ago that I thought I was beginning a new life in an island nation populated, seemingly, by only angels. Nevertheless, here I am. Picture the "Exorcist" sort of combined with Leo DiCaprio's "The Beach" and you get the idea.
Perhaps I should backtrack.
They call me Ahab...er...make that Meister. I live in Angeles City with a demonically posesses Filipina. From what I gather, the demon has enjoyed roughly 2000 years of pseudo-life on this earth and entered my poor, beautiful Filipina girlfriend when she was 9 years old and accidentally fell asleep in a cave after being abandoned by her younger brother Marvin. I don't quite understand the details, nor do I want to.
About the demon part, though, I'd just say only this: no sh!t. If you think I'm joking, you are welcome to come to my house and verify these facts. O.J. Simpson would be so lucky to find such expert witnesses.
So, you see, it sort of happened this way. This young girl falls asleep in a cave and next thing you know, she's posessed by a demon that's 2000 years old. Now this isn't just your "run-of-the-mill", garden-variety demon. This demon only becomes dominant when my girlfriend gets drunk or jealous. Apparently, that tends to weaken her religious convictions or moral spirit or whatever, allowing the demon to gain control of her well-endowed body and thus turns her into a knife-wielding, spit-spewing, television-smashing force of Evil. Unfortunately, my girlfriend drinks like a fish and gets jealous of any girl on TV, so this tends to occur frequently.
The first time this happened, I became mildly perturbed. I think a phone call to my Mom triggered it. Demonko picked up the second line and demanded to know who the other "girl" was on the phone. That precipitated a rather one-sided knife fight. One-sided because only she had a knife. Luckily, I wasn't drunk that night and managed to deflect her vicious thrusts and slashes with a lamp.
The second time was because I ventured to suggest that we leave Mo's steakhouse and retire early. Luckily, it took only four Kokomo's personnel to subdue her while I cowered courageously in the C.R. Briefly, the demon attempted levitation from the second floor offices of the restaurant, then was handcuffed and brought screming to a local hospital. The hospital personnel promptly administered a vitamin B-12 complex then released her. Apparently demonic posession is well known in the Philippines and easily treated by over-the-
counter vitamins.
The third time was due to a dog I stooped to pet. The fourth, well, from what I remember the demon ascended because I noted that she no longer fit into her favorite pair of pants. I don't quite recall theat incident because I think the demon struck me with a San Miguel bottle or similar recyclable blunt instrument. The stitches come out tomorrow, though.
Once tht demon had been revealed, many people tried many things to combat it. For example, her father purched a rather expensive religious medallion from a local "Quack Doctor" (his words, not mine). This holy medallion came in the form of a spent handgun shell filled with sand, crimped at the top, with a crudely drilled hole through the crimping. I paid the P500 for the medallion, and my girlfriend carried it at all times as instructed, but to my chagrin, the demon overcame the power of this sacred relic.
Next, her dearest friends assured me that weekly attendance at Catholic masses would drive away the demon. I asked why. They patiently explained that demons flee from the odious smell of burning candles and the presence of white-robed guys. It sounded reasonable, since I, too, flee from burning candle smells and white-robed guys due to a deep-seated case of homophobia.
Again, however, the Demon overcame our tactics. Instead of attending Church, my girlfriend practiced the Evil sport of Billiards and frequented Karaoke bars during the allotted Holy time. Eventually, I uncovered this diabolical plot.
Now, lest you think I'm complaining, let me tell you the "glass-half-full" side of the story. Demonko, as I now call her, has learned a few tricks over 2000 years. To be honest, she boom booms like a rabbit. Make that a rabbit IN HEAT. Over the years, Mankind has lost much sexual lore, but Demonko, being many centuries old, remembers most of it. Second, the demon seems to take care of the house, so to speak. Yeas, Demonko visits the beauty salon, keeps her nails nicely done, and ensures that her hair is always tidy. The Demon likes to dress to the nines...well...make that the sixes, as in 666's. Third, did I mention Demonko is good in bed? Er...oh, yeah, that's sort of the same as point number one, isn't it? I've exhausted the good points.
Likewise, I must confess there are some downsides. Forget the knife-wielding, body-slamming, instant postal stuff for a moment. That I can easily handle with Kevlar body armor and a Taser stun weapon. No, I'm talking about normal things. For example, you'd think that after 2000 years, the Demon would learn to cook. Apparently, no. Demonko has survived for two millenia exclusively on a diet of dried fish.
She cooks and summarily gobbles the little smelly, greasy beasts and cares nothing about my own nourishment. Sadly, I eat daily at the same restaurants I frequented whilst still a green tourist.
Or, for example, you'd figure that if a demon could care for it's "host body", or "house" as I referred to it above, it could literally take care of it's REAL house, as in residence. Apparently not. Demonko requires a maid. I'm required to pay the maid. If I fail to instruct the maid as to her daily duties, the maid will happily sit with Demonko whilst munching chicharrone (pig fat fried in pig fat) and watching Viva all day. I have no doubt that Demonko is preparing our hapless young maid to become a host body for a sister-demon.
As a final example, I've become alarmed at the escalating cost of maintaining Demonko. At first, Demonko required a simple fee for services rendered. P1000 per day as a "buy out fee" and then a modest tip. Being generous, I tended to give Demonko P1500 as a tip, netting her P2000 by my admittedly poor mathematical calculations. P2000 pieces of silver, I now know.
All of that has changed. Demonko now requires things I never dreamt of. The house for her Evil siblings and Evil parents who spawned her cost nearly P40,000. Foolish me, I considered that a bargain at the time. Little did I know that the roof would collapse, termites would eat the walls, and Mad Cow disease would claim the family livestock. Such are the plagues that follow these demons.
Then, too, how could I predict that Demonko would develop a severe phobia for traveling by trikes and jeepneys? How could I know that I'd have to dump another P90,000 to buy her a scooter? Nor did I predict that her demonic heritage would cause all of her living relatives to contract the Ebola virus, setting me back another P150,000 for a rare herbal cure to combat this flesh-eating disease she'd only just read about the day before in the newspaper? In retrospect, I guess I could have had multiple-girl "sandwiches" for the rest of my life until I expired with a blissful and carefree smile on my face for the price I've paid in just one short year with Demonko.
Learn from my mistakes.
At this point, I'm certain that you pity me. Please don't.
You're also expecting me to tell you the happy-ending. After all, ALL Angeles City stories have happy endings. Alas, mine does not.
You see, I just want to warn you about the slavery that is ramp...oops! Gotta run, Demonko is calling me....
