Beelzebub was a sweet guy. He like black and white cookies. Tuxedo cookies. He liked dunking them in coffee, in Earl Grey tea, and in milk. Sometimes he'd have all three beverages laid out in front of him and he'd take turns dunking them... not always in the same order. It was like he was conducting a symphony...of taste. He gave it all his attention.
He was a sweet guy. He told me once that my hair reminded him of a little river he'd played near once, with a couple boys who were probably in their early teens. They'd all be over a hundred now if any of them still were alive. That my hair kind of flowed over my shoulders the way that river flowed around the rocks.
He was a sweet guy. He didn't always notice when he committed a social faux pas, but he was so guileless, you couldn't imagine he meant anything by it. Once he ate all the pizza that we'd ordered for the whole family, and then he said, "is that all there is?" Boy, he's got an appetite. It must be because he runs hot. He's like a furnace!
He was a sweet guy. Once, I found him out in the yard, poking things with a pitchfork. "Just like old times," he said.