Herbert's First Imp

“Oh dear. Well, it was here — it was here —”

Herbert flips the bowl that had once been upside-down on the counter this way and that. Just a moment ago, a black winged thing — a chirop, he was informed was the likely identity of his unwelcome guest — was caught beneath it. He’d trapped it there in a moment of panic; evidently, he’d left the window open for too long, and the little creature had taken advantage of his carelessness.

The idea was to call some imp-removing professional to remove it from his little apartment and be done with it all. The imp-removal fellow was here (tapping his foot, looking rather entertained), but the imp — despite it seeming impossible for it to have escaped its makeshift prison — was gone. 

“I really hadn’t lied. I — I’m sure if you stay a bit longer, it m-must turn up somewhere about here — I’d closed the… window, so…”

“...If you really are so desperate for company, there are other, more conventional ways of getting someone to… stay with you, you know.”

“Aahaha — no, you’re really misunderstanding me —”

“Listen, mister, I’ve got a friend who loves your sort of… lanky-dweeby-types, yeah? Let me give you his number, I gotta get back to work —”

…and it was soon that Herbert was alone once more, a phone number scrawled on a sticky note shoved into his hands (despite his protests) and his would-be savior vanished out the door.

Herbert sighs. 

The sticky note is tucked in a drawer with the other notes for things he really does intend on getting around to, sometime, but for which he never musters up the time, energy, or courage. 

His apartment is a tiny thing, just enough space for him and his things — the idea that there was something somewhere in his space with him, out of sight, no way of knowing whether it was causing mayhem or whatnot — it made it hard to feel at ease. He didn’t hear anything, at least. Was that better or worse?

Well, searching the place hadn’t done any good. Perhaps they could… de-apparate themselves? 

Evening was drawing near. Herbert took his pill cutter and procured a butterscotch from the butterscotch jar and split one in half; gingerly, he wraps one half back in its wrapper and sets the other half on his tongue, closing his eyes and taking in the pleasant sweetness, eyelids twitching and lips pursing at what to him was a rather strong sensation. 

Then, continuing on with his end-of-day routine, he walked from the kitchen into the little living room and flicked on the old television, turning the knob to flip through the channels until settling on some kind of informative show about imps. Yes, he thought, perhaps they could show me how to handle my little problem. He settles into his armchair and folds his hands on his lap.

“For the lonely bun, an imp can be a great companion —”

Oh dear. It seemed they were talking about keeping them as… pets, and, well, that sounded a bit too exciting, and he was, well, himself, and how could he treat anything to a life much better than his own, which…

On the screen, a loafki stretches its little back paws across the lap of a genial-looking bun making conversation with the host. It’s making an odd little motion…

“See here? This is called kneading. It means they’re nice and relaxed. It’s purring, too~ You know, they say purring has health benefits — oh really? — oh yes! —”

Herbert closes his eyes. It does sound nice, though — to have something warm and happy to lay on his lap and keep him company. The TV drones on, feeding his mind thoughts of a little friend as he fell into a lull, then dipped into sleep.

…

He wakes up somewhat confused. He dreamt of being like the woman on the TV, reading a book while a warm creature was curled up on his lap — but he was quite sure he was awake now, and yet, that warm little weight still remained.

His heart skips a beat as he peeks open an eye down at his lap — down at the inky-black winged splotch of fur blinking back up at him. 

“...Oh. Hello there, little… thing…”

It remains still. This was the creature — the chirop — that had been fluttering around his kitchen just this morning. He was frightened at the time, but… he supposed it must have been frightened too, at the new and strange place, let alone at his trapping it under a mixing bowl. 

What was that in its little claws? Ah — the other half of his butterscotch, still in the wrapper.

Gently, slowly, he reaches and takes the candy from its hands… then, unwraps it and returns the treat within to its clutches. 

“...It’s much better like that, little... friend.”

The chirop began… eating, he presumes? Without a mouth he doesn’t quite understand how, but it makes some squeaking noises and the butterscotch gradually disappears.

He had quite a bit to learn, didn’t he?

Herbert gingerly lifts the chirop to his shoulder as he rises up from his seat and to the TV. He needed to rewind — he’d slept through all the talk of imp care, and now, it was time for him to pay attention.