An old and homely grandmother accidentally summons a demon. She mistakes him for her gothic-phase teenage grandson and takes care of him. The demon decides to stay at his new home.
It isnât uncommon for this particular demon to be summonedâfrom exhausting Halloween party pranks in abandoned barns to more legitimate (more exhausting) ceremonies in forestsâbut it has to admit, this is the first time itâs been called forth from its realm into a claustrophobic living room bathed in the dull orange-pink glow of old glass lamps and a multitude of wide-eyed, creepy antique porcelain dolls that could give Chucky a run for his money with all of their silent, seething stares combined. Accompanying those oddities are tea cup and saucer sets on shelves atop frilly doilies crocheted with the utmost care, and cross-stitched, colorful âHome Sweet Homeâs hung across the wood-paneled walls.
Itâs a mistakeâa wrong number, per se. No witch itâs ever known has lived in such an, ah, dated, home. Furthermore, no practitioner that ever summoned it has been absent, as if theyâd up and ding-dong ditched it. No, it didnât work that way. Not at all. Not if they want to survive the encounter.
It hears the clinking of movement in the room adjacentâthe kitchen, going by the pungent, bitter scent of cooled coffee and soggy, sweet sponge cakes, but more jarring is the smell of blood. It movesâfeels something slip beneath its clawed foot as it does, and sees a crocheted blanket of whites and greys and deep black yarn, wound intricately, perfectly, into a summoning circle. Its summoning circle. There is a small splash of bright scarlet and sharp, jagged bits of a broken curio scattered on top, as if someone had dropped it, attempted to pick it up the pieces and pricked their finger. It would explain the blood. And it would explain the demon being brought into this strange place.
As it connects these pieces in its mind, the inhabitant of the house rounds the corner and exits the kitchen, holding a damp, white dish towel close to her hand and fumbling with the beaded bifocals hanging from her neck by a crocheted lanyard before stopping dead in her tracks.
Now, to be fair, the demon wouldnât ordinarily second guess being face-to-face with a hunchbacked crone with a beaked nose, beady eyes and a peculiar lack of teeth, or a spidery shawl and ankle-length black dress, but there is definitely something amiss here. Especially when the old biddy lets her spectacles fall slack on her bosom and erupts into a wide, toothy (toothless) grin, eyes squinting and crinkling from the sheer effort of it.
âTodd! Todd, dear, I didnât know you were visiting this year! You didnât call, you didnât writeâbut, oh, Iâm so happy youâre here, dear! Would it have been too much to ask you to ring the doorbell? I almost had a heart attack. And donât worry about the blood, hereâI had an accident. My favorite figure toppled off of the table and cleanup didnât go as expected. But I seem to recall you are quite into the bloodshed and âedgyâ stuff these days, so I donât suppose you mind.â She releases a hearty, kind laugh, but it isnât mocking, itâs sweet. Grandmotherly. The demon is by no means sentimental or maudlin, but the kindness, the familiarity, the genuine fondness, does pull a few dusty old nostalgic heartstrings. âImagine if it leaves a scar! Itâd be a bit âbadass,â as you teenagers say, wouldnât it?â
She is as blind as a bat without her glasses, it would appear, because the demon is by no means a âToddâ or a human at all, though humanoid, shrouded in sleek, black skin and hard spikes and sharp claws. But the demon humors her, if only because it had been caught off guard.
The old woman smiles still, before turning on her heel and shuffling into the hallway with a stiff gait revealing a poor hip. âBe a dear and make some more coffee, would you please? Iâll be back in a jiffy.â
Yes, this is most definitely a mistake. One for the record books, for certain. For late-night trips to bars and conversations with colleagues, while others discuss how many souls theyâd swindled in exchange for peanuts, or how many first-borns theyâd been pledged for things idiot humans could have gained without divine intervention. Ugh. Sometimes it all just became so pedantic that little detours like this were a blessingâhappy accidents, as the humans would say.
Thatâs why the demon does as asked, and plods slowly into the kitchen, careful to duck low and avoid the top of the doorframe. Thatâs why it gingerly takes the small glass pot and empties it of old, stale coffee and carefully, so carefully, takes a measuring scoop between its claws and fills the machine with fresh grounds. Itâs as the hot water is percolating that the old woman returns, her index finger wrapped tight in a series of beige bandages.
âIâm surprised youâre so tall, Todd! I havenât seen you since you were at my hip! But your mother mails photos all the timeâyou do love wearing all black, donât you?â She takes a seat at the small round table in the corner and taps the glass lid of the cake plate with quaking, unsteady, aged hands. âI was starting to think youâd never visit. Your father and I have had our disagreements, butâŚI am glad youâre here, dear. Would you like some cake?â Before the demon has a chance to decline, she lifts the lid and cuts a generous slice from the near-complete circle that has scarcely been touched. It smells of citrus and cream and is, as assumed earlier, soggy, oversaturated with icing.
It was made for a special occasion, for guests, but it doesnât seem this old woman receives much company in this musty, stagnant house that smells like an antique garage that hadnât had its dust stirred in years.
Especially not from her absentee grandson, Todd.
The demon waits until the coffee pot is full, and takes two small mugs from the counter, filling them until steam is frothing over the rims. Then, and only then, does it accept the cake and sit, with some difficulty, in a small chair at the small table. It warbles out a polite âthank you,â but it doesnât suppose the woman understands. Manners are manners regardless.
âOh, dear, I can hardly understand. Your voice has gotten so deep, just like your grandfatherâs was. That, and I do recall you have an affinity for that gravelly, screaming music. Did your voice get strained? Itâs alright, dear, Iâll do the talking. You just rest up. The coffee will help soothe.â
The demon merely nodsâsome communication can be understood without failâand drinks the coffee and eats the cake with a too-small fork. Itâs ordinary, mushy, but delicious because of the intent behind it and the love that must have gone into its creation.
âI hope you enjoyed all of the presents I sent you. You never write backâbut I am aware most people use that fancy E-mail these days. I just canât wrap my head around it. I do wish your mom and dad would visit sometime. I know of a wonderful little cafĂŠ down the street we can go to. I havenât been; I wanted to visit it with Charles, before heâŚwell.â She falls silent in her rambling, staring into her coffee with a small, melancholy smile. âI canât believe itâs been ten years. You never had the chance to meet him. But never mind that.â Suddenly, and with surprising speed that has the demon concerned for her well being, she moves to her feet, bracing her hands on the edge of the table. âI may as well give you your birthday present, since youâre here. What timing! I only finished it this morning. Iâll be right back.â
When she returns, the white, grey and black crocheted work with the summoning circle is bundled in her arms. Â
âI found these designs in an occult book I borrowed from the library. I thought youâd like them on a nice, warm blanket to fight off the winter chillâI hope you do like it.â With gentle hands, she spreads the blanket over the demonâs broad, spiky back like a shawl, smoothing it over craggy shoulders and patting its arms affectionately. âHappy birthday, Todd, dear.â
Well, that settles it. Whoever, wherever, Todd is, heâs clearly missing out. The demon will just have to be her grandson from now on.
this is so sweet. it made me want to hug someone.
i had to
I WOULD WATCH SIX SEASONS AND A MOVIE
Okay but she takes him to the little cafe and all of the people in her town are like âWhat is that thing, what the hell, Anette?â and sheâs like âDonât you remember my grandson Todd?â and the entire town just has to play along because no one will tell little old Nettie that her grandson is an actual demon because this is the happiest sheâs been since her husband died.
Bonus: In season 4 she makes him run for mayor and he wins
I just want to watch âToddâ help her with groceries, and help her with cooking, and help her clean up the dust around the house and air it out, and fill it with spring flowers because Anette mentioned she loved hyacinth and daffodils.  Over the seasons her eyesight worsens, so âToddâ brings a hellhound into the house to act as her seeing eye dog, and people in town are kinda terrified of this massive black brute with fur that drips like thick oil, and a mouth that can open all the way back to its chest, but âHoneyâ likes her hard candies, and doesnât get oil on the carpet, and when âToddâ has to go back to Hell for errands, Honey will snuggle up to Anette and rest his giant head on her lap, and whuff at her pockets for butterscotch. Anette never gives âToddâ her soul, but she gives him her heart
In season six, Anette gets sick. She spends most of the season bedridden and it becomes obvious by about midway through the season that sheâs not going to make it to the end of the season. Todd spends the season travelling back and forth between the human realm and his home plane, trying hard to find something, anything that will help Anette get better, to prolong her life. Heâs tried getting her to sell him her soul, but sheâs just laughed, told him that he shouldnât talk like that. With only a few episodes left in the season Anette passes away, Todd is by her side. When the reaper comes for her Todd asks about the fate of her soul. In a dispassionate voice the reaper informs Todd that Anette spent the last few years of her life cavorting with creatures of darkness, that there can be only one fate for her. Todd refuses to accept this and he fights the reaper, eventually injuring the creature and driving it off. Knowing that Anette cannot stay in the Human Realm, and refusing to allow her spirit to be taken by another reaper, so he takes her soul in his arms. Heâs done this before, when mortals have sold themselves to him. This time the soul cradled against his chest does not snuggle and fight. This time the soul held tight against him reaches out, pats him on the cheek tells him he was a good boy, and so handsome, just like his grandfather. Todd takes Anette back to the demon realm, holding her tight against him as he travels across the bleak and forebidding landscape; such a sharp contrast to the rosy warmth of Anetteâs home. Eventually, in a far corner of his home plane, Todd finds what he is looking for. It is a place where other demons do not tread; a large boulder cracked and broken, with a gap just barely large enough for Todd to fit through. This crack, of all things, gives him pause, but Anetteâs soul makes a comment about needing to get home in time to feed Honey, and Todd forces himself to pass through it. He travels in darkness for a while, before he emerges into into a light so bright that itâs blinding. His eyes adjust slowly, and he finds himself face to face with two creatures, each of them at least twice his size one of them has six wings and the head of a lion, one of them is an amorphous creature within several rings. The lion-headed one snarls at Todd, and demands that he turn back, that he has no business here. Todd looks down, holding Anetteâs soul against his chest, he takes a deep breath, and speaks a single word, âPlease.â The two larger beings are taken aback by this. They are too used to Toddâs kind being belligerent, they consult with each other, they argue. The amorphous one seems to want to be lenient, the lion-headed one insists on being stricter. While theyâre arguing Todd sneaks by them and runs as fast as he can, deeper into the brightly lit expanse. The path on which he travels begins to slope upwards, and eventually becomes a staircase. It becomes evident that each step further up the stair is more and more difficult for Todd, that itâs physically paining him to climb these stairs, but he keeps going.
They dedicate a full episode to this climb; interspersing the climb with scenes they werenât able to show in previous seasons, Anette and Honey coming to visit Todd in the Mayorâs office, Anette and Todd playing bingo together for the first time, Anette and Todd watching their stories together in the mid afternoon, Anette falling asleep in her chair and Todd gently carrying her to bed. Anette making Todd lemonade in the summer while heâs up on the roof fixing that leak and cleaning out the rain gutters. Eventually Todd reaches the top, and all but collapses, he falls to a knee and for the first time his grip on Anetteâs soul slips, and she falls away from him. Landing on the ground. He reaches out for her, but someone gets there first. Another hand reaches out, and helps this elderly woman off the ground, helps her get to her feet. Anette gasps, itâs Charles. The pair of them throw their arms around each other. Anette tells Charles that sheâs missed him so much, and she has so much to tell him. Charles nods. Todd watches a soft smile on his face. A delicate hand touches Toddâs shoulder, and pulls him easily to his feet. A figure; we never see exactly what it looks like, leans down, whispering in Toddâs ear that heâs done well, and that Anette will be well taken care of here. That she will spend an eternity with her loved ones. Todd looks back over to her, sheâs surrounded by a sea of people. Todd nods, and smiles. The figure behind him tells him that while he has done good in bringing Anette here, this is not his place, and he must leave. Todd nods, he knew this would be the case. Todd gets about six steps down the stairway before he is stopped by someone grabbing his shoulder again. He turns around, and Anette is standing behind him. She gives him a big hug and leads him back up the stairs, he should stay, she says. Get to know the family. Todd tries to tell her that he canât stay, but she wonât hear it. She leads him up into the crowd of people and begins introducing him to long dead relatives of hers, all of whom give him skeptical looks when she introduces him as her grandson. The mysterious figure appears next to Todd again and tells him once more he must leave, Todd opens his mouth to answer but Anette cuts him off. Nonsense, she tells the figure. IF sheâs gonna stay here forever her grandson will be welcome to visit her. She and the figure stare at each other for a moment. The figure eventually sighs and looks away, the figure asks Todd if sheâs always like this. Todd just shrugs and smiles, allowing Anette to lead him through a pair of pearly gates, sheâs already talking about how much cake theyâll need to feed all of these relatives.Â
P.S. Honey is a Good Dog and gets to go, too.
the last lines of the show:
demon: youâre not blind here â but youâre not surprised. whenâŚ?
anette: oh, toddy, donât be silly, my biological grandsonâs not twelve feet tall and doesnât scorch the furniture when he sneezes. iâve known for ages.
demon: then why?
anette: you wouldnât have stayed if you werenât lonely too.
demon: you⌠you donât have to keep calling me your grandson.
anette: nonsense! adopted children are just as real. now quit sniffling, you silly boy, and letâs go bake a cake. honey, heel!
honey: WĚ˝ĚĚżÍÍĚOĚÍŚĚŁĚŽĚšÍ Ě˛ĚŞOÍ̸ĚÍĚŹFĚÍŤÍÍĚĚŤÍĚÍÍĚ
