Yellow of eyes stared at the tweezers. Eying it as one never seen a tool before. Metallic prongs pinched together. Tink tink tink. Eying the procedure of gripping a pesky hair. One follicle at a time, it plucked from the cave of a darkened nostril. He winced. Groaned. Mined for more excess hairs and relayed the message of pain to know that both, if not one at all could feel anything. He coughed then hissed wearily getting one task done while conjuring up another. Thumping his foot against linoleum, practicing the pace for which the day were to come together. In his head he felt alive, begging to be engaged with the hellfire of which danced across the ground fit for scum like himself.

His reflection red and eyes yellow, almost believing he had a fine and bizarre case of the beets. He didn’t shake one bit nor fly around in the panic of all panics when he should have. When he should have faced the contents of the liquor cabinet, forcing about 50 bottles down his throat. Nah, his sentiments to the invasion of a devil was to shrug it off. Not for anything but being filled with rather joyous memories as his hand was held securely. A walk-through of sorts while grooming took place. Hissing of coercion and the laundering of promised souls kept his heartbeat at ease. The space around him was a steam room mess, raising the temperature in the room to meet standards of conformability for the demonic presence that rang supreme.

The lovvvve boat. Love Boat soon will be making another run. The Love Boat promises something for everyone. Set a course for adventure. Your mind on a new rromanccccceeeee.

The cha-cha coordinated steps propelled him to step from the mirror in a manner of rightfully dancing to be awake again. Moving freely on the bare soles of feet. His towel clung carefully around him while shaking his hips and thrusting in the air during a dance break as the remixed theme of The Love Boat parted through his ears as the soundtrack for a beautiful day. His heart raced all over again as the entity pandering to Lyle's most desired want. That was to have fun, perhaps at a greater cost than he was given time to bargain for. He wasn’t ashamed of the display and quite pleased in all honesty. This time, the symbiotic bond would have to work long enough to get through another one of the bizarre weeks.

Although knowledge of Boston was right there at the edges of his mind, Mephisto tossed a blanket over the thousand dollar question and urgency to investigate life being non-existent there. The big finger of illusion wagged away misleading information and kept him tied to the presence. To the city where the Bay was a momentous place for collateral damage. The type of carnage that anyone of such caliber could use to the bag of advantages he hoped to plead for. His song and dance routine continued on, moonwalking along the floor. Flashdancing in honor of Jennifer Beals but the feeling of what was, transfixed him in a revitalization not thought of.

What a feeling. Bein’s believin’. I can have it all, now I’m dancing for my life. Take your passion. And make it happen! Pictures come alive, you can dance right through your life..

It reigned in between his ears, settling for the running joke that acted as a commitment of being around more expectedly. Lyle was both horrified and humored by it all when he pranced back to the mirror, which fogged over again. Hand brushed against it revealing what true handsomeness and disgust looked like tangled as one. “I can’t keep doing this!”

Nonsense. Irene Cara is who you oughta blame for making such a catchy tune. Bailar, Lyle ‘cause we have arrived!!

“No! Stop stop, I have a meeting to attend,” he gravely pled and knew the battle was unwinnable. He had limited function on his own existence, leading to believe fighting for the control was a loss he had to eat. Unable to stop dancing in front of the mirror was the first sign and defeat was such an easy task as his common sense numbed by a presence greater than he had strength to break far from. “Come on, guy!”

No!

His bathroom erupted in hissing steam, piping from holes through the wall. The magnificence of a casted illusion done by his subconscious draining his will and recreating the reflection of rocky walls, oozing with a beating life that cried out in a chorus of groans. The agony filled byways of where Mephisto's home realm stood. Faces of corrupted souls reached from those same walls. Hands clawing out to overwhelm the sensory of sight while being frightened into submission. They wailed with misery, volume ascending as the show of Lyle's worst nightmare appearing to him by manipulated visuals. Faces of relatives, notably his estranged parents, were in the throngs of an orgy of torture that filled the bathroom with a stench to cause his stomach to wretch.

Concede and ask no questions, was his first threat. Live in a moment before the consequences would appear worse than that of the chamber of the bathroom. He held hands over face, ready to ball his eyes out from being left without choice. Unlike his own doing, he no longer was in the bathroom but sent outside the door to his home. Signals of traffic pressed on in the distance, so did the neighbors of Potrero Hill. Someone screamed, another scoffed and pointed. Noses turned up or disgusted by his appearance suddenly open for the public to see. Work with me here, buckaroo. Easy does it and all of this can go away. The humiliation gone, with the snap of a finger!

“Okaaaaay! Get me back inside, now!” His eyes closed and opened to appear back where he had been for most of the morning. The tweezers at the Basin of the sink. The room still foggy but lacked a menagerie of terror jumping out of dark hellish walls. He fell on the closed toilet and slumped forward. He slapped his cheek, hoping the connect was a wake up call from his nightmare, one shared by many others except who knew having a demon around would be the threat of his ill-configured livelihood.