Imps make a crunchy sound when I step on them. They’re messy. They’re smelly. They ooze green goo all over my boots. While that’s an easy way to get rid of them, there’s a better way, and it’s a whole lot easier on my footwear budget.
Holy water grenades. Those balloons made especially for summer parties? I’d been filling them at Mass out of the baptismal font whenever I could manage it; whenever the priest wasn’t looking.
Of course, sometimes there’s splash damage on items that have been touched by hell-beings, but who wants that in their living room, anyway?
I know what you’re thinking. Why in the world would I know this? It’s part of the job, which, in this economy, isn’t something I want to risk. Besides, there aren’t many jobs available for people like me: young, broke, no college education, especially since I lost my last job for burning hamburgers at McDonalds. Add in the fact that it’s way cooler to say, “Hi, my name is Leslie Johnson and I’m your Demon Buster today,” than, “Do you want fries with that?”