Odid’s Return

By popular demand, here is another adventure concerning Odid the anti-Cupid. If you want to read the original you can do so on Cameron and my shared blog here  .We have come to an amicable sibling agreement (oh okay, I beat him at arm-wrestling for it) that as it concerns a demon, which is much more MY domain, then I should take over.

Odid was bored. Valentine’s Day, his favourite of the year, was past and now he had only the odd wedding anniversary to obliterate from people’s minds, venues for dates to mix up in text messages and sometimes, just for fun, a pollen allergy which hadn’t been mentioned so that the new suitor arrived to present his beloved with flowers, her having made enormous efforts to look wonderful, only to find a sneezing, snotty, mascara-streaked mess on his hands. Odid particularly liked that one. It very soon changed “their song” from “Wonderful Tonight” to “Tears of a Clown”

Odid, when bored, was even more dangerous than normal. Let us be very honest here and say that most lovers do not need any help to screw up their relationships. They do that very well on their own, thank you very much. However, Odid, having discovered technology was on a roll. Music was one of his major turn-ons and he discoverd that it was possible to ruin a first date very quickly if one of the parties was getting over a break-up. He insinuated himself into the music system and ensured that somewhere around the main course, where the new couple were just getting to like each other, the grieving person would get their previous “our song” and quite possibly burst into tears. He rubbed his warty green hands with glee then. He loved making people cry.

Lonely souls were meat and drink to him. They were, by definition, already very vulnerable and with the use of the internet, Odid would work them over to his own satisfaction but never to the point of suicide. That was outside of his brief. Heartbreak, splitting up and endless acrimonious rows were his job.

Specialist web-sites were another new discovery which provided much glee. The bringing together of two people through a social networking site, allowing them to become fond of each other was kids’ stuff. The trick was to then prompt one of them to search for a specialist site “Gimp Masks R Us” was a good one, he found and for them to discover that the new “special person” in their life was listed as already being in several relationships. Furious emails, texts, shouted telephone messages and Odid was happy, sitting by the injured party and cackling furiously.

He was, in fact, just doing his job. Nature provides balance in all things so for every couple that met, fell in love and enjoyed a glorious, blissful romance, there had to be another that went through a thoroughly awful time of it. That was just how things were. How the gods had ordained it. Odid’s boss was Loki, God of Mischief in the Norse pantheon and the two of them often went out for a beer after work together to share tales of what havoc they had wreaked on humans that day.

It was a surprise, therefore, when Odid had a visitor. A chubby little boy with golden curls and a rosebud mouth with a quiver of arrows slung across his back. Instead of his usual, Rubensesque birthday suit, Cupid was wearing blue tights and his underpants on the outside and had a large letter C on the front of his chest.

“I’m giving you fair warning, Odid,” he piped in his cherubic little squeaky voice. “Venus is pretty hopping mad about this. You have gone way over your quota in the last few months and this is war!”

Odid turned one somersault in the air and landed on his back, shrieking with laughter. A line from a 1950s song came to him and he pointed a long, thin green finger at the love-cherub

“Stupid cupid, stop picking on me!”

“We’ll see,” replied the messenger of Venus. “Just you wait … we’ll see.”

Shaman's Drum Covers

Shaman’s Drum, novel about magic, demons and love 


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