pudd is not over

Conversation with three Hellhounds

Concerns about posting spirit conversations

Request a conjuring for a conversation

I hold my guardian vessel and call to the three hellhounds that guard me. I will call them “Bastard,” “Angel,” and “Pudd” - based on their real names. They are dogs of truly impressive size, each one jet black with either ruby or amber eyes.

Bastard: “Why have you called us here? It is not time to eat.”

Angel: “There is no danger.”

Pudd: …

I say, I would like to do an interview with them, to post their answers on the Internet for others to read. “We already did an interview,” says Angel. I did interview these three spirits thoroughly before offering them a contract. I say that now I would just like to speak with them, and maybe they will have a message to share with others.

“Yes!” says Bastard brightly. “Tell them we will accept all offerings and food.”

“Will you give them your address, so they can send us food?” asks Angel.

Pudd barks happily.

I say I do not think people will give me free food to offer a group of hellhounds. “Why?” challenges Angel, angrily. For once, Bastard remains silent. I ask them if they are unsatisfied with their regular payments and offerings. “We are not unsatisfied,” says Bastard. “It is because we are from Hell,” says Angel. “They do not like us.” I say I am sure many people love hellhounds as much as I do. Pudd wags his tail and comes over to me. “I see no reason why we should not receive food from the Internet people,” says Angel. I do not think he is letting this one go. “Be calm, Brother,” says Bastard. “They do not know us, they have no reason to feed us.”

“They do not like us!” again insists Angel. “They think less of us.” I firmly suggest that Angel takes Bastard’s advice to calm down, or else I will call him a bad dog. Angel calms down immediately. Pudd is pressing his head against my leg and I pet him. Angel whines, so I pet him too. Bastard is sitting down in front of me.

“If they will not feed us, what reason do we have to speak with them?” he inquires. I think this is a very fair point. I say that perhaps they would like to speak from their own interest and curiosity.

“We will speak if you give us extra treats,” says Bastard. I know I am being bamboozled but I agree and give each dog a treat as an offering. Now they are barking happily, burying their heads in piles of astral treats. “We will speak,” says Bastard. Pudd flops over, stuffed full of treats. I ask Bastard if he would like to share a message, but Angel interrupts. “Tell them we are no less than other dogs,” he says. “We are not evil, we are great guardians, full of power and goodness. We just reside in the underworld.” I say, I fully believe they are good and great guardians. Bastard nods. Pudd pants, his massive tongue flopping on the ground. “We are also better than heavenhounds,” says Angel somewhat insidiously. I ask why that is. “Because we are not stuck up,” says Bastard. “Look at me. My name is Bastard. Do you think a heavenhound would have a name like that? No. They take themselves too seriously. They have no sense of humor.” I ask Pudd what he thinks. He kicks his legs.

Angel proceeds to go on a diatribe that I will not publish.

Bastard nods his head in agreement. “Furthermore,” he says. I will not publish the rest of Bastard’s comments, either.

Pudd has finally struggled to his feet. He comes over to me and collapses in my lap. His head is the size of my torso. These dogs care too much about things, he tells me telepathically so the others cannot hear. No spirit has ever spoken this way to me before. This is the longest sentence Pudd has ever said to me. I am a happy dog, he says. I do not worry about silly things. Tell your friends, they should be happy dogs too.Then, they can be in my pack. I pet Pudd’s giant head in acknowledgment of his words. When I tune back to the other two hounds, Bastard is still shittalking. I say, I think it is time they return to their patrols.

“No,” says Angel. “We like it here.” They lay down in my bedroom and request candles and wine. Because I am a pushover, and because I like them so damn much, I agree.