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“Vlad, come clean my boots!”
“Ugh, wait twenty minutes, it’s the season finale.”
A beat of silence.
“Verdilet, come clean my boots!”
Under enough pressure, Vladimir Kaleta could have admitted that there were some advantages to the stupid priest having him dragged to his stupid home in this stupid village. Such as the human invention called television which offered endless entertainment. Unfortunately, the priest’s goals were highly self-serving. While Vlad had time to amuse himself with unbelievable, needlessly violent tales when the priest was elsewhere, there seemed to be an unending list of degrading tasks that needed to be done when the human was around.
Oh and then there was the demon fighting. But that was less annoying. Even when Dunstan was mostly using Vlad as a meat shield when his exorcisms didn’t work faster than the hostile demon sinking its teeth into the soft human flesh, at least it offered Vlad a chance to let off some steam by skewering the other demon with his sword.
But still… still. Walking now unwillingly towards the small entrance hallway, compelled by the order stamped with Vlad’s true demon name, he hardly thought the good aspects outweighed the bad ones.
Especially as it had been raining for days. The priest had taken his boots off, caked in mud so thick hardly anything could be seen of the actual things.
“Have you been walking through a pigsty???”
“Aw Vlad, don’t be so prissy, it’s just a bit of dirt,” Dunstan laughed without a care in the world. He was so lucky he’d given Vlad explicit orders to never murder any human. Vlad would have already strangled him about five times just for today. “Clean them up without damaging them and then leave them right here.”
Dammit, the priest had remembered. It had been hilarious watching him look for any pair of shoes early in the morning a few weeks ago, Vlad having stashed them all around the house after he had been ordered to clean them all.
The “not damaging” part was rather rude of the priest though, Vlad had never purposefully destroyed anything here, apprehensive of what the payback could be. Well, no, he had not-so-accidentally broken several plates while doing the dishes, but Dunstan has himself mentioned that it sometimes happened to him too, which had pretty much been an invitation as far as Vlad was concerned. Destroying something of the priest’s felt cathartic. There were not many other ways to retaliate for this debasing life of servitude. Although Vlad did have a little help in his-
“And don’t forget to pick up the dung from your horse in the garden and throw it in the rubbish bin.”
-his trusty steed. Vlad wasn’t sure what he would have done if the priest forced him to leave his horse on the island. While he wasn’t one for sentimentality, the majestic beast had been his only companion for centuries and parting with her was unthinkable. Now she got to graze on the priest’s stupid garden and surrounding fields, and shit all over his stupid flower garden.
The human should appreciate the free manure instead of asking Vlad to clean it up. Maybe it had something to do with the cabbage garden that had been covered meticulously enough to hide any cabbage a month ago.
Vlad loved his horse.
Even though now Dunstan specified to throw it into a rubbish bin, which greatly stifled Vlad’s creativity.
“Hm, that should be all for now,” Dunstan tapped his chin and walked towards the kitchen. Vlad was staring at his retreating back in resentment but the pull of the order forced him to pick up the boots and start cleaning.
Was all of that really just mud? Brown on brown, it could be other things. Vlad tried not to think about it, instead turning his thoughts to a frequently visited topic of his, why it was him that was considered evil, and not the purported “holy man”. Vlad had learnt a lot of new vocabulary from the television and so he had many new words to use at that man. “Asshole” was his current favourite.
Of course, Dunstan had once tried to order Vlad not to use any expletives, but Vlad had had nothing if not time and the more creative he had got with substitutions, the more had the priest been growing irritated. Which had also been a sight to see, as the man was unusually hard to provoke. In the end, Dunstan had decided to call off the previous order and instead had told Vlad to not say anything with the intent to be rude.
It had been annoying few days before the priest had realized that Vlad hadn’t been “sulking” but rather had been rendered effectively mute.
That order had then been revoked too – with a relief from Vlad that he would never admit to, because technically, he didn’t need his voice to fulfil the fucking chores, the priest could have left him unable to say a word if he had so wished.
Then again, Dunstan seemed to enjoy someone who he could annoy and Vlad’s pissed reactions were probably part of the fun. Vlad had tried not rising to the bait but eventually always failed. Stupid priest.
With these unhappy thoughts, Vlad had eventually completed the task of cleaning boots. He didn’t check how long it had taken, but he knew the show he’d been watching was by now surely over. Not that it mattered because he still had more work in the garden. Dragging himself out, he greeted his horse with warmth no-one else in the world deserved and then got to his work.
Around an hour later, still as annoyed but glad that task was over, Vlad returned to the house, careful not to dirty the floors with his own boots – he knew he’d just have to clean it up after himself anyway. Dropping on the flower-patterned sofa in the living room he started browsing the TV channels in hopes that anything would catch his interest and let him forget his current fate for a while.
Not ten minutes in, Dunstan peeked into the room.
“Vlad, you left some of those excrements on the pavement.”
What the fuck? He was sure it was all, and his horse had moved to the meadows for now. “No I didn’t,” he narrowed his eyes at the priest, daring him to make him get off the sofa. Which he could, easily, but it was the principle of the thing.
“Oh yes you did. I can show you.”
It wasn’t an order yet, but sometimes it wasn’t worth waiting till it came to that. The sooner this literal shit got resolved, the sooner he’d be left alone. Hopefully. For a short while at least.
Outside in the garden, near the garden gate, there lay a small dark something on the pathway. Right, now Vlad remembered.
“That’s dog shit.”
“Vlad, I don’t have a dog.”
“I don’t give a fuck. It’s not from my horse.”
The priest actually acquiesced for once. “I suppose you’re right.” Vlad’s victory didn’t last though. “Clean it up anyway.”
Vlad just gave him an angry huff. It’s not like he hadn’t expected that.
The next day, when Vlad was doing laundry (not mixing white and coloured clothes, another annoying latter addition to his orders that Vlad had, for once, not done on purpose – how was he supposed to know that?! He had never done his own laundry, even when he had been a human), Dunstan came to him concerned:
“There is more dog poop on the pavement.”
“Maybe you’ve got a dog after all,” Vlad deadpanned, trying to find matching socks.
“I have wished for a pup when I was but a little lad. Maybe a belated gift from Him above?”
“Or a stray mutt shitting in your garden in the middle of the night.”
“Or that,” Dunstan agreed cheerfully. “Don’t forget to clean it up after you’re done with the laundry.”
“Asshole.”
When another fresh serving of faeces appeared the day after that, and then the following day as well, in similar places in Dunstan’s garden, its recurring presence have started becoming more and more irritating. It wasn’t that disposing of it took long, Vlad would just rather not have to deal with it at all. In a rather unusual turn of events, the priest was just as displeased. He might not have been cursing about it under his breath like Vlad was, but it was still an annoyance that connected them. It was… strange. For the first time, they had a common enemy that wasn’t a man-eating demon that Dunstan decided to provoke and then let Vlad deal with the consequences, rather this time it was a literal pile of shit. Or the dog that kept creating it, although the priest probably wouldn’t let Vlad skewer the offending hound if the opportunity arose.
Having determined that the unwelcome gift must be appearing some time in the morning, as it was, to Vlad’s disgust, still slightly warm when he had picked it up hours before noon, they have decided to lie in wait for the culprit. That was another weird thing, really, as they had hardly spoken a few words about it, yet met in the kitchen early in the morning the next day, with determined expressions. Wordlessly, they moved to the window and watched.
It took maybe half an hour before anything or anyone of interest came into view. One of the neighbours, Vlad didn’t remember the name, was taking his scraggly dog for a walk.
“That’s Bobby O’Connor,” Dunstan spoke softly the first words of that day, “I don’t think he would-”
The man outside reached down and let the dog off the leash, letting it run free. Vlad felt a brief pang of envy of the dog, but that turned quickly to thirst for its blood, as after some sniffling, the mutt with a lack of hesitation that hinted at practice found a hole in the wooden fence and entered the garden. Its human owner had lit up a cigarette in the meanwhile, smoking contentedly as he watched the sun low above horizon, walking leisurely down the path.
The dog took a shit.
Then the flea-ridden mongrel ran out and into the fields, running around without a care. O’Connor eventually disappeared behind another turn and everything was left in silence.
After a minute or so, Vlad and Dunstan exchanged a glance.
“Still a gift?” Vlad asked.
“Well, at least the mystery is solved,” the priest responded with his usual optimism. “I will talk to Bobby, he probably isn’t aware of what’s happening.”
As Dunstan stood and prepared to leave the room, he turned at the last moment: “Oh and Vlad, clean it up, would you?”
Fucking priest.
That afternoon, when Vlad was staring blankly at the TV, nodding off instead of focusing on whatever the hell it was happening in the soap opera he’d come across, Dunstan strode into the room with intent. One look at him fully woke Vlad up, expecting the priest to say they were going demon hunting and it absolutely couldn’t wait.
Instead, Dunstan’s stern stare (not even aimed at Vlad!) softened slightly into disapproval (still not aimed at Vlad) and with a shake of his head, he said: “I’m afraid Bobby isn’t being reasonable about our little problem.”
“What does that mean?” Vlad growled.
“He’s been rather rude when I asked him to keep a better eye on his dog. Something about letting his dog “shit wherever he pleases”, to quote the lad.”
Vlad crossed his arms. “Then I’ll kill the dog.”
Dunstan waved a hand, his tone turning amicable. “Now now Vlad, no need for such violence.” Well, it was worth a try.
“I’m not cleaning that shit up every day,” Vlad warned, despite them both knowing that decision was out of his hands.
“I rather think you are.”
Vlad was about to go off angrily, when the strange smile of the priest’s face made him pause and wait for what came next.
“But do not throw it in the rubbish bin, that would rather be a waste. The excrements belong to Bobby’s dog, and so to Bobby himself, and it would be rude not to return something he had misplaced in our garden.”
There was a decidedly ugly smile forming on Vlad’s face, he could feel it. Not many opportunities to truly smile around here, it was a rare feeling.
The priest still held that a little too wide smile as he continued: “I will find some nice bag you can put it in, no need to bother Bobby every day. Once the bag is full, we will deliver his belongings to him. Maybe… maybe when he’s not home, in case he was shy to accept the returned items.”
Vlad barked out a laugh. He knew the priest was an asshole, but sometimes, sometimes he could be just evil.
And while he wouldn’t consider it so before, now he could add it to the small pile of good things about his stay here.