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Mugman’s heart was pounding.
He had expected the demon to kill him in an instant — and yet, here he stood, locking eyes with the looming beast perched on the towering throne before him.
Its voice broke the deafening silence.
“You know, Mugboy, I’m honestly surprised. I knew that brother of yours was a selfish one, but abandoning you like this is a new low entirely!”
Mugman clenched his fists, his eyes darting to his shoes. If he looked into the eyes of the beast for a moment longer, he’d surely vomit.
“He didn’t abandon me. My bruddah’s gonna save me, I know it.”
Maniacal laughter erupted from the monster’s throat, sending shivers down the mug’s spine. He refused to look up, however — maybe, if he shut his eyes, he’d wake up in the familiar warmth of the cottage.
The Devil rose from his throne, approaching the boy with an unreadable look. Mugman cowered in fear for his very life, but the demon simply lifted the mug’s head with a finger, a smirk creeping across his lips as they locked eyes.
“Tell me, my dear boy, do you really believe that he’s coming to save you?”
Mugman opened his mouth to speak, but the Devil shushed him in an instant.
“Ah, ah, ah. I’m not done.”
He crossed his arms behind his back, beginning to make circles around the mug as he spoke.
“I’ve been watching you two for some time now, and it has not escaped me that your brother seems to have a complete disregard for your safety.”
Mugman’s heart dropped. The very thought of the Devil watching his every move from afar mortified him, but what was worse was that he was right.
“Aren’t you tired of him pushing you around? Dragging you into dangerous situations, only to rely on you to get him out of it?”
Hesitating for a moment before speaking, Mugman muttered a hazy “yes” — his mind becoming clouded by thoughts not his own.
“Don’t you want to show him how angry you are? To give him a taste of his own medicine?”
Once again, Mugman was compelled to answer, but something deep within him snapped him out of it. He shook his head violently, slowly backing away in horror.
“No, no, no, you’re— you’re doin’ something to me, aren’t you? You’re— You’re messin’ with my head.”
A glint of frustration shone in the Devil’s eyes, but his wicked smile remained plastered on his face.
“My, my,” he cooed, inching closer as the mug attempted to distance himself from the monster before him. “You’re quite the perceptive one, aren’t you?”
Mugman clutched the sides of his head, the Devil’s whispers flooding his brain.
“No, no, I’m not going to listen to you. I’ll— I’ll drown you out!!”
Now backed against one of the cavern’s walls, Mugman began helplessly reciting his favorite nursery rhyme. Elder Kettle used to sing it to him when he was a baby, and it had always brought him comfort.
All around the mulberry bush,
The monkey chased the weasel,
The monkey thought it was all in good fun,
Pop! Goes the weasel.
“Aren’t you tired of being pushed around?”
All around the mulberry bush,
The monkey chased the weasel,
The monkey thought it was all in good fun,
Pop! Goes the weasel.
“You deserve to get revenge.”
All around the mulberry bush,
“Show him what you can really do.”
The monkey chased the weasel,
“You can’t bottle up all that rage forever.”
The monkey thought it was all in good fun,
“Don’t you want to prove yourself?”
Pop! Goes the weasel.
POP! Goes the weasel.
POP! GOES THE WEASEL!
POP! GOES THE—
Mugman froze for a moment before his hands released their grip on the rims of his head, falling to his sides as his limbs went slack. His terrified expression vanished in an instant, his eyes glazing over.
“Pop,” the Devil taunted, playfully tapping the mug in the center of his forehead.
“Goes the weasel.”