Me and my roommate Beelzebub have gotten along pretty well for most of the year, but since we came back from break, I feel like he’s been acting kind of strangely. I mean, he’s always been eccentric—constantly leaving grimoires lying around and stuff—but this week, things have really gone to another level.
I came back to campus on Sunday afternoon, and when I arrived, Beelzebub was still nowhere to be seen. Night fell, and he still hadn’t come back, which struck me as a little odd—didn’t he want to get some rest before the start of classes? I didn’t think much about it at the time, though, because I was busy working on my econometrics problem set.
I was still engrossed in work when the clock struck midnight, but I was soon startled by a tremendous clap of thunder. The door flew open, and in strode Beelzebub, night-black cape streaming behind him.
“Hey, Beelzy!” I said jovially. “What’s up, dude? How was your break?”
My questions went unanswered. He’s probably just tired from the journey, I thought.
“Long trip?” I asked. “That Metro-North can be a real pain.” As I posed this question, he turned to look at me, and the feeling of his eyes boring into me sent shivers down my spine.
Beelzebub seemed confused. When I followed up, he said that he didn’t take the Metro-North, but instead came back to campus “upon a flaming chariot pulled by skeletal horses.”
“That’s awesome, man,” I said. “Actually, where do you live, anyway? New Jersey?” I felt bad that I’d never asked that before, but I guess it had just never come up.
“My home is in the darkest pit of Hell’s seventh ring,” he said. “I am present wherever the hearts and deeds of men are wicked; wherever pain and suffering are found, you will find me in their company.”
“Gotcha, dude.” I replied. “Jersey.”
That was the end of our conversation. After that, I went to bed, and Beelzebub hung upside down from the sprinkler pipe watching me. His sleep schedule seems kinda cracked, but hey, whatever works.
Monday is a busy class day for me, so I was out of the room for most of the day. It was only after dinner, around 7:30 p.m., that I came back to the room. When I opened the door, I was greeted with a shocking sight. Beelzebub had drawn a pentagram on the floor in what looked like blood, surrounded by a circle of candles, and was reciting a sonorous chant in a guttural, inhuman language. Inside the circle, the floor seemed to melt away, replaced by a violently rippling black surface that terrified and mesmerized me in equal measure.
“Dude, what are you doing?” I said, aghast. “Did you draw on the floor? You know they charge us for that at the end of the year, right?”
His reply was wordless, a growling scream which made it clear that I was an unwelcome witness. I took the hint and backed out of the room, only coming back around midnight and making sure to knock when I returned. Beelzebub seemed really angry when I walked in on his ceremony thing, and I wasn’t taking any chances. The whole thing kind of annoyed me. I totally get it if he wants some privacy, but a little warning would be nice, you know?
At this point, I was starting to question how me and Beelzebub even became roommates in the first place. He’s been pretty chill since we moved in, for the most part—he even lent me his pitchfork for my devil costume on Halloween! I invited him to come out with me that night, but he said he couldn’t, because it was “the night on which the border between my world and the human world is thinnest.” It just felt like an excuse for him not to hang out with me, which was honestly really hurtful.
Look, don’t get me wrong: Beelzebub is a really nice guy, but we just don’t have that much in common. In a last attempt to connect with him, I asked what he did in his free time.
“I sear the souls of sinners on the ever-burning brazier,” he said.
“Oh, sweet,” I said. “Maybe you can show me sometime.”
Beelzebub threw back his head and cackled.
“Perhaps I will show you sooner than you think,” he intoned.
What a weirdo.