A while back, my friend June wrote about how pharmacists scare her, because of everything they know about their clients. I jokingly left a comment to the effect that my pharmacist would know I am a very healthy succubus who is draining the life and vitality from the men I live with. And we laughed great big Internet laughs about it.
But it’s true.
I can’t even remember the last time I got a prescription filled for myself. It’s been ages since I’ve needed anything that couldn’t be bought over-the-counter. Or over on the corner. Either one, really. But seriously, I haven’t taken anything stronger than an Advil in years.
The 15 million men I live with, however, are always coming down with something or other. Bronchitis, pneumonia, migraines, sinus infections… the poor bacteria-ridden, germ-infested man-babies.
Jepeto likes to say that I am the pillar of our family and that if I get sick, our whole world will just fall apart. Then he whines until I bring him soup.
And there lies the crux of it all. Being a sexy, seductive supernatural demon who causes the deterioration or even demise of the men around her sounds really cool until said men actually begin to decline.
Then I’m nothing but a maid. A sexy, seductive, supernaturally healthy, soup-carrying, Kleenex-fetching, vomit-mopping maid.
Being a succubus sucks.
Welcome to Day 11 of the Second Third Annual 30 Minus 2 Days of Writing. Today’s prompt was Succubus and it was brought to you by our favourite temptress and former Rockette, Linda Medrano. Please click on the links below to visit the other people participating in this challenge.