The four remained seated around a table, two hours into a seemingly endless meeting. The witch was devouring another cigarette while caressing an expensive bottle of whiskey with her long fingernails, as a sign of uneasiness. Next to her, a hyperventilating werewolf was looking sideways as he moistened the papers in front of him with the drool hanging from his tongue. At the other end of the table, the devil himself stood on the chair in an expensive suit, his evil presence obscuring the entire room, leaving only the dim light of the lamp above the members of that particular meeting. Next to the king of darkness sat a zombie, holding a pencil in his right hand but his only eye was staring into the void and his hanging jaw was swinging, nothing strange from a being without a brain or consciousness.
-You have to sign or we'll never get out of here," said the devil to the zombie with his voice from beyond the grave. He was already annoyed, it wasn't the first time he said it to him.
The zombie shook his head as if affirming, but he didn't seem interested in signing any paper.
-Make him sign or I'll bite his head off," the werewolf growled, gritting his teeth to contain his angry impulses.
-Magnificent idea, bite his head off and tomorrow the media will bite ours off. Does anyone in this room care about public opinion? - said the witch with a grimace of disgust towards her companions.
-You have to sign - insisted the devil to the zombie - remember what we talked about? there is nothing you can do with the resources you represent, instead I will use them as I please and in return I will fill you with money, we all know that even a brainless person like you knows how to spend money.
-I have seen it all, the devil no longer recruits souls, he is dedicated to the accumulation of wealth," said the witch as she laughed out loud.
-And you, damned witch? You abandoned the cauldrons to dedicate yourself to journalism. The werewolf growled as he scratched his ear with his hind paw.
-There is no difference, behind the riches await the souls, all have a monetary value, there are no souls without price, nor man that I can't buy," answered the devil while he mockingly stroked the zombie's head.
-No concoction or spell has as much power over the human conscience as that of a fake news," replied the satisfied witch.
-When the first press release comes out, the protests will start, so together with my riot dogs I will unleash the carnage. We have to destroy the first ones, so the others will think twice before going out on the streets," planned the werewolf while licking his snout.
-Repression is an art form," said the witch ironically.
-There is nothing artistic about what I do, brute force is the most primal expression of power. I make unruly troublemakers obey, shut up or disappear, I am more powerful than your magic and your contracts," shouted the werewolf to his two companions as he pounded the table.
The witch was drinking whiskey while smoking like a chimney, the devil on the other hand was quietly trying to convince the zombie to sign the mysterious agreement.
-You couldn't do it without me," replied the witch looking poncidally at the werewolf, "when this idiot signs I will soften the news, no one will suspect the package when they know all the media about "The New Economic Era" when they start to notice the measures they will already be up to their necks in speculation, unemployment and poverty.
-I can't force him to sign, but I can help him a little," said the devil impatiently as he took the zombie's hand and moved it up and down with his own, slowly drawing a signature.
The devil laughed frantically, his guttural voice went all over the place and its surroundings. At that very moment his assistant entered with four mugs full of steaming coffee, the delicious smell of roasted beans filled the room and the four characters inhaled deeply the seductive fragrance.
The secretary left the room, a few minutes later they came out in line: the president of the International Monetary Fund and the president of a Latin American country, the IMF representative adjusted his Dior suit while patting the president's back and saying things in a low voice, the scrawny little man smiled shyly and said yes to everything. Behind them came out an old military man with a face of few friends, he was the minister of defense of the same country, he was breathing heavily, he seemed hyperventilating; he looked with contempt at the secretary and scratched the gray hairs that were sticking out of his ear. Finally an attractive journalist came out, with one hand she was waving a cigarette, which she devoured quickly with each puff, with the other she held a telephone to her ear and scandalously announced a news item from.
On the table where the meeting took place, the four empty cups were left, at the bottom of each one some remains of coffee, this delicious and addictive drink is the only one with the power to give human appearance to some evil creatures that clandestinely inhabit among us.
Original content by the author.
Resources: Tablet ZTE E10Q
Own illustration
Translated with Deepl.com
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