Once, there were two anthropomorphic personifications.

For the sake of convenience, we'll call them "Good" and "Evil".

They were at a cafe' (outdoors, of course), ordering drinks that suited their temperment. At least, they tried to. The Pierrier was easy enough, but they were right out of hydrochloric acid. "Damn it," said Evil. "I guess I'll have a gin and tonic." The waiter, unfazed by the slight sulfurous smell, nodded serenely. You would be unfazed too, if you had seen some of the people that frequented this particular cafe'. It was right next to a liberal arts college; some days the smell of patchouli covering unwashed neo-hippie bodies was nearly overpowering. It was almost as bad as the Aqua-Velva reek of the Young Republicans when they came by after thier weekly meetings. Sulfur was almost a relief.

But I digress.

As they waited for their drinks, Evil leaned forward. His teeth sparkled when he grinned.

"I'm winning, you know."

Good smiled, nodded at the waiter when he took his Perrier. Evil downed his gin and tonic before the waiter left and ordered another.

"How can you sit there so smugly? You're losing, old bean. You are failing. Fewer and fewer people see your influen..."

"Flowers, sir?"

Evil recoiled from the mass of roses shoved in his face. The old lady smiled her toothless grin, repeating her mantra.

"Flowers, sir?"

Good examined his fingernails as Evil scanned desperately for the waiter, who was busy snickering to himself from behind a potted tree.

"Flowers, sir?"

"NO."

The lady recoiled from the vision she'd just had. Later that day, she'd convince herself it was really just the cold medicine she'd taken earlier that morning playing tricks on her.... but yet, she found herself paying more attention to her daily life. She took the time to say "I love you" to those she was supposed to say it to, and was somewhat surprised to find out that she meant it. She took part in her grandchildren's lives once again, and discovered herself in a blissful autumn of her life, full of warm colors and lovely people. She was glad of this chance when she was hit by a bus two months down the road.

Now, though, she just recoiled.

Good softly tsked at Evil as the waiter returned: "Orders, sirs?"

"Steak. Rare. Bloody," said Evil.

"Number Twelve," said Good, without having opened the menu.

As an eyebrow slowly arched upward, the waiter inquired, "Will that be separate checks?"

"Yes," said Good, before Evil had a chance to speak.

Evil leaned forward again as the waiter left.

"You know I'm not going to tip him."

"Yes."

"You know I'm winning."

"Yes."

"Don't you care?"

"Not really."

"Right. Right. Not really. You know, you really piss me off."

Silence fell.

It got back up a while later, slightly bruised, with a nasty scrape on its left knee, and a bit of a dizzy feeling. It went to the ER and waited for six days, where it finally died of starvation in the waiting room. On the seventh day, when a nurse called for "Silence", he greeted her.

Anyway.

The steak, when brought, had maybe known the heat for a good, oh, ten seconds. Evil was delighted.

"See? Look at this! You can't eat this, can you? Think of the fat, the grease, the cholesterol. Casual sex is right out for you, and dancing, and all that! You can't have any fun!"

Good just smiled.

"You forgot one thing, friend."

"What's that?" Evil asked through a mouthful of flesh.

The waiter set the lemon marangue pie down in front of Good.

"Your number twelve, sir."

Good thanked him, then stretched his grin from ear to ear.

"I have Bugs Bunny cartoons."

Evil just sat there for several minutes after Good had left, pie dripping from his face onto the silk suit he wore.

"I have never been so humiliated in all my life."