Beelzeblog

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SECRETARY!!
Where is that damn scribbler? Ah good. Sit here and type what I dictate, keyboards aren't made to cope with talons.

The woman is too weary to update her miserable little online ramblings and I doubt she would give me full credit for the torments I have heaped upon her this Michaelmas so I have decided to do the job myself, again.

My first act of genius was to dash her hopes of an 'all the family round the table' Christmas dinner. With one tap of my life sapping finger, I sucked the strength from the mother and cast her into her cot, resisting all persuasion to attend the festivities. However, the woman was not sufficiently cast down by this; she made her mother comfortable in a warm bed, gave her life preserving tablets and made her drink soup before joining her husband and offspring for an enjoyable meal. She then returned with the grandson to cheer up the mother. Insolent wretch.

I upped my game. During the night I blew a rank stream of bile-laden breath into the mother's nostrils, it wound it's putrid way through the tunnels and caverns of her weak little body, destroying her appetite and loosening her bowels. The woman now has her hands full, attending the sick bed three times a day, dealing with dirty laundry, trying but miserably failing to persuade the mother to eat, all the time keeping up a cheerful appearance to mask the despondency beneath. See how the woman's heavy eyelids droop, how her chest heaves with each paroxysm of coughing.

The woman thought she could outwit me with a plan to make her mother feel better. Knowing the old lady could not stand under the shower but badly needed a thorough wash, she ran her a warm bath. I let her believe all was well until the old dear was in the water. Then I filled her thoughts with trepidation and made the smooth, hard floor of the bath press unmercifully into her bony bottom. The mother would not loosen her hold on the bath handles so could not wash herself and all the time bewailed her discomfort. The woman had the devil of a time ha ha ha! yes, you can leave that in, getting the mother out of the bath, she almost slipped through her soapy grasp at one point, who knew such a tiny body could weigh so heavy?

I could see I had a powerful adversary - the mother was looking a little better after the bath, refreshed, clean hair, warm and weary. While the woman returned home and the mother slept, I whispered in her ear 'you have no appetite, you will not rise' and so it has been. The woman prepares to return again to the sick bed. I shall relax now, and admire my handiwork.

That will do secretary. Fetch me a pitchfork and a sinner or two, I am in need of distraction.