Devil in a Red Dress

I had just sent a book off to a reviewer on the planet Mercury, where the surface temperature is that of molten lead on the side that always faces the sun. On the side that doesn't face the sun, your saliva would freeze in your mouth so no one goes there either. Apparently, Mercurians live inside their hollow planet, just like the Venusians do.

This reviewer got a free book and the cost of sending it to her via NASA was a thousand times the cost of the book itself. I figured she'd be objective and, being an expert of some kind in my genre, she'd write a decent review.

One afternoon I was telling all this to Angus, our big-ass head bartender at Think-A-Holic Lounge when I heard high-pitched laughter coming from the end of the bar. I was pretty well high on think-a-hol by then and all I could make out was this hideous red face with horns.

I asked Angus who in the hell she was or who in the hell did she think she was. Ol' Angus fought hard not to laugh in my face and he finally spit it out. "I think she's your book reviewer," he said, "and it looks like she came all this way just to see your face."

When I turned to look at her again she was gone. But she left her trident behind and one day she'll return for it and then I'll have the last laugh.