The Summoning That Went Wrong

By []

I never expected Friday night dinner to end with a demon in our living room. But with my parents, nothing ever goes as expected.

When I came home, Dad greeted me at the door wearing an oversized bathrobe dyed purple with food coloring. On his head perched what looked suspiciously like my old science fair volcano, spray-painted silver and decorated with sequins.

“Welcome, O Seeker of Knowledge!” he boomed, waving a wand clearly made out of a mop handle.

I sighed. “Dad, please tell me Mom didn’t start another hobby.”

Inside, the curtains had been drawn tight. Candles flickered across the room, dripping wax onto Mom’s favorite coffee table. Our living room rug had been rolled up and shoved into the hallway. In its place, Mom and three of her book club friends crouched around a chalk circle that covered most of the floor.

Mom looked up with glitter in her hair and an expression halfway between pride and mischief. “We’re summoning enlightenment,” she explained.

“Last week you summoned sourdough starter,” I reminded her. “The smell still hasn’t left the house.”

One of her friends, Mrs. Greenberg from down the street, hissed, “Shhh, child. The veil grows thin!”

Dad leaned close to me. “They found a Beginner’s Guide to Practical Sorcery in the discount bin at the bookstore,” he whispered. “Only two ninety-nine!”

I dropped my backpack, already bracing myself for disaster. “So what happens if you succeed?”

“That’s the exciting part,” Mom said brightly. “We don’t know!”

The women began chanting in voices that wobbled between spooky and slightly off-key. The air thickened with incense that smelled like burnt cinnamon rolls. My eyes watered.

At first, nothing happened. The candles sputtered. Someone sneezed. Then, with a sudden pop, the chalk circle flared with blue light.

A figure appeared inside it — tall, horned, and radiating heat like a furnace. His skin shimmered the color of molten rock. His eyes glowed an ominous red.

I froze. Mom clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, look! It worked!”

The demon stretched, yawning wide enough to reveal rows of fangs. His booming voice shook the floorboards.

“WHO DARES SUMMON—”

“Excuse me,” Mom interrupted, wagging a finger like she was scolding a neighbor’s dog. “We have rules. Inside voices.”

The demon blinked. Then, surprisingly, he cleared his throat and spoke more softly. “Who dares summon me?”

Dad proudly raised his mop-handle wand. “We do. The Henderson Family Sorcery Society.”

I slapped my forehead.

The demon’s nostrils flared. “State your demand. Riches? Power? Eternal life?”

Mom tilted her head thoughtfully. “Actually, we were hoping for help with our book club. The next novel is 600 pages and we’re struggling to keep up. Could you summarize chapters for us?”

The demon stared, visibly thrown off. “I… I am Destroyer of Worlds. Bringer of Fire. Summarizer of literature is not my role.”

“Oh, come on,” Mrs. Greenberg chimed in. “Don’t be so dramatic. You look like a smart boy. Surely you’ve read something.”

For the first time in his existence, the demon looked embarrassed. “I never finished War and Peace,” he muttered.

Dad leaned toward me, grinning. “See? Everyone struggles with Russian novels.”

Meanwhile, Mom busied herself offering the demon a plate of brownies she had baked earlier. “You can’t terrorize on an empty stomach,” she insisted.

The demon sniffed suspiciously, then took a bite. His glowing eyes widened. “Chocolate?”

“Double fudge,” Mom said proudly.

Within minutes, the Destroyer of Worlds sat cross-legged in our living room, chewing brownies and listening as the book club debated symbolism in chapter three.

When I finally dared to ask how long he planned to stay, he licked his claws clean and shrugged. “Until the next full moon. Or until you run out of brownies.”

I groaned. “So, forever.”

The circle of women cheered. Dad started designing matching robes for everyone. Mom promised to teach the demon how to use the microwave.

And me? I decided it was safer to spend my weekends at the library. After all, even demons respect a little peace and quiet.