While I’m on the subject of windows, I went to the supermarket today. (Yes I do go to the supermarket. Who do you think takes the price boards away from the shelves? The sound of a till bell and the words “Mavis! Can I have a price check, please?” is music to my ears. Not good music, obviously, but you get the picture.)
At the supermarket, in between the two sets of doors where they put the racks of local business flyers, was a woman standing in front of a display of double glazing panels. “Excuse me, sir,” she says, in that snooty fake accent they copy from the BBC, “Can I interest you in our windows?”
I must point out here that she, like most people, sees me as a tall human male in a very expensive business suit. I don’t show my true form to just anybody, you know, unless they need a dose of faith. There’s nothing like the sight of an undisguised demon to put the fear of Him into them. I’ve filled churches before now, and not just by making the nun’s habits invisible.
Anyway. I look at her and she looks at me.
“I don’t need them,” I said. “We’ve already got windows. They let in the light and everything.”
She looks at me as if I’m taking the piss.
“No, honestly,” I said (as if a demon would ever lie). “We had these huge empty holes in our walls that let in the cold and the rain until some geezer sold us some of these things. What are they called again?”
“Windows,” she said, her voice trailing off like a supermarket trolley wheel.
“Windows, yes.” I gave her a big smile and wandered into the store. She was gone when I came out again. Taken all of her windows and vanished.