The Demon Yabbo comes rolling down the mountainside, making noise like its the end of the world. He only wishes it were.
He stops at my home, where the wards begin, and glares at me. As long as I live, the wards keeps him at bay.
“You’re still alive,” he says.
“Yup.” I say.
“One day,” he gloats, “you’ll be dead.”
“I’m only mortal.” I say, shrugging.
“Once you’re dead, mankind is doomed!” He laughs and heads back up the mountain.
The Demon Yabbo has been doing this for a thousand years. He can’t keep track of time very well.