How to Hack a Wedding ft. Lucifer (ONC 2024)

2. lucifer & netflix

While I certainly hope no one would ever need this information- it took me over an hour and a half just to get the pig's blood out of my hair. The last ten minutes of this process were dedicated to figuring out if my hair was its regular red, or blood-stained red.

Today was the day I found out that the colour of my hair matched with the colour of animal blood. Yet another piece of information no one would ever need.

I had yelled my head off from my bathroom during this time to let that demon know he was in-charge of the clean up. If my living room wasn't spotless by the time I stepped outside, I would call up my overzealous, God-fearing aunt and make her curse him.

If he was truly an all-knowing, all-powerful creature, then he would know that the last time someone had crossed Aunty Madeline, she had manifested explosive diarrhoea on them.

I wondered which angel, or cherub, or maybe God himself, was filled with so much spite to listen to such prayers.

Maybe it was a demon?

What if it had been this demon?

I hated how my brain worked sometimes.

I shook my head at myself, patting my hair down with a light pink towel. The original cream towel I had first used had turned a spotted red, but this one, thankfully, did not seem to be going down a similar path.

Once I finally felt cleaner, I pulled on a sweatshirt and looked at myself in the mirror. An outline of blood had stubbornly remained near my hairline and I had to scrub it harshly before it budged. I had started looking red for an entirely new reason.

Once I was satisfied that I had managed to get rid of every trace of a farm animal off me, I decided it was time to analyse the damage to my living room. While I certainly had entrusted the demon with the clean-up job, it was hard to believe that he would have taken it seriously.

If the massive amount of photographs, and films, and books were any indication, hell wasn't earning any points for cleanliness.

How much better could a demon possibly do?

As it turned out, a lot.

I felt like I had walked into the cleanest living room I had ever seen in my life. The splashes of blood that had stained the fabric of the couch and the rug were no longer present. The rug itself had been rolled out again, covering up the space which, previously, had started to look like the set of a cult documentary.

The candles had been put out, and kept on the mantle above the fireplace in the order of their size. The curtains had been thrown open to make the place look much warmer and inviting than before.

The demon responsible for the miraculous transformation lounged on the couch, flipping through Netflix titles on the TV.

"Why don't you watch Lucifer?" I asked, deciding to join him on the couch.

While the setting had turned way too normal and inviting for having a conversation and striking a deal with a demon, I could perhaps use it to my advantage and just casually bring up the reason behind summoning him.

He turned to face me and did a once-over, searching for any spots of blood I might have missed.

My cheeks heated up, but I managed to maintain my posture.

Falling all over myself was not the first impression I would have wanted to make in front of anyone, much less a demon I was going to be coercing to act as my date.

"I'm nothing like that," he shrugged, facing the screen once again, "Why does he have a British accent, anyway? And why would these celestial beings talk amongst themselves in English? Are they trying to say that Britain managed to colonise heaven and hell, too?"