When I Summoned A Succubus My Mother Showed Up

Okay, so, we've all been there, right? You’re bored. Maybe it’s a Tuesday. Maybe you just finished binging a weird documentary about ancient rituals. And you think to yourself, "Hey, what’s the harm in trying to summon a succubus?" You know, just for kicks. Like baking a cake, but with significantly more potential for demonic intervention.

It all started innocently enough. I was scrolling through some forums (as you do), and came across a thread detailing the "Guaranteed Method to Summon a Succubus." Now, I'm generally skeptical, but the poster claimed they'd had multiple successful… encounters. And honestly, my dating life was looking bleak, so why not try outsourcing to a different dimension?

The Setup (or, How Not To Impress a Demon)

The instructions were surprisingly specific. You needed: a dimly lit room (check – my apartment is perpetually dim), a circle of salt (table salt, naturally, because I'm not fancy), five black candles (found some at the dollar store – classy), and a willingness to "embrace your deepest desires" (which mostly involved pizza at that point).

I meticulously arranged the candles, feeling like some budget-friendly occultist. The salt circle looked less impressive, more like I'd had a minor sodium explosion. But hey, effort counts, right? I put on some "atmospheric" music (mostly Enya – I figured it wouldn’t offend anyone, demon or otherwise), and began chanting the incantation I'd meticulously copied from the forum.

It was surprisingly boring. The chanting was repetitive, my throat was getting dry, and I kept forgetting the Latin phrases. At one point, I think I accidentally summoned a particularly persistent fruit fly. The struggle was real.

The Incantation and the Fruit Fly

“Veniat ad me, succubus…” I mumbled, trying to remember if “succubus” was singular or plural. Suddenly, the air crackled. Okay, maybe it was just the faulty wiring in my ancient apartment. But then the candles flickered, and I felt a slight chill. Success! Or maybe I just needed to pay my heating bill.

I continued chanting, feeling a weird mix of excitement and impending doom. This was it. I was about to summon a creature of dark desire. Maybe she’d be beautiful. Maybe she’d be terrifying. Maybe she’d ask me to pay her student loans. Who knows with these interdimensional beings?

The room grew colder. The shadows deepened. I could feel a presence, a weight in the air. I braced myself, ready to face whatever unholy entity I'd called forth. And then…

"Did You Remember To Take Out The Trash?"

The door swung open. And standing there, silhouetted in the hallway light, was my mother.

“Oh, hi, dear,” she said, her voice laced with the familiar tones of maternal disappointment. “I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d pop in. Did you remember to take out the trash? It’s overflowing again.”

My heart sank faster than a lead balloon. The carefully crafted atmosphere of occult mystery evaporated like a spilled glass of water in the Sahara. My potential succubus encounter was officially interrupted by a pop quiz on domestic responsibilities.

“Mom… what are you doing here?” I stammered, desperately trying to shield the salt circle with my body. I probably looked like I was trying to hide evidence of a particularly embarrassing crime scene. Which, in a way, I was.

“Just checking in,” she said, stepping into the room. Her eyes immediately zeroed in on the black candles. “What are those? Are you having a séance? You know your father always said those things were… odd.”

I tried to explain, but the words just wouldn’t come. How do you explain to your mother that you were trying to summon a succubus when she’s more concerned about your overflowing trash can?

The Inquisition (Mom Edition)

What followed was less of a demonic encounter and more of a spirited interrogation about my life choices, my apartment’s cleanliness, and my future plans. The salt circle was ignored, the black candles were deemed “gothically depressing,” and the Enya was replaced with a lecture on the importance of financial planning.

She even started rearranging my furniture. Apparently, my feng shui was “off,” which, I suspected, had nothing to do with the fact that I’d been trying to commune with the underworld.

The whole experience was surreal. Here I was, ready to face the wrath (or embrace the allure) of a demonic entity, and instead, I was getting a lecture on the proper way to fold towels. The irony was not lost on me.

After about an hour of this, my mother finally decided she needed to leave. "Well, dear," she said, heading for the door. "I'm glad I stopped by. Try to be a little more… responsible, okay?"

And with that, she was gone, leaving me standing in my dimly lit apartment, surrounded by salt, candles, and the lingering scent of her perfume. The succubus never materialized. My mother, however, had arrived with the force of a thousand disapproving suns.

Lessons Learned (The Hard Way)

So, what did I learn from this whole ordeal? Several things, actually:

• Demons have terrible timing. Or maybe they just have a deep-seated fear of judgmental mothers.
• Always take out the trash. Seriously, it's not worth the hassle.
• Enya is not the soundtrack to successful demon summoning. Maybe try something a little more… aggressive. Though honestly, my mother's disapproval was probably more terrifying than any demon I could have conjured.
• Never underestimate the power of maternal guilt. It transcends dimensions.
• And finally, maybe I should stick to online dating. At least then, the worst that can happen is a bad first date. Though, knowing my luck, my mother would probably show up there too.

The moral of the story? If you're planning on summoning a succubus, make sure your mother isn't in the neighborhood. Or, you know, just invite her. Maybe she'll have some really good advice for the demon. After all, moms know best, right?

And honestly, looking back, maybe it was a good thing my mother showed up. Who knows what kind of trouble I would have gotten into with a succubus? Maybe I would have been forced to sign a soul-binding contract. Maybe I would have ended up as some sort of demonic errand boy. Or maybe, just maybe, I would have finally found love. But hey, at least my trash was taken out.

So next time you're thinking about dabbling in the dark arts, just remember my story. And maybe, just maybe, invest in a really good vacuum cleaner. You never know who (or what) might be dropping by.

And if you do summon a succubus, tell her I said hi. And maybe ask her if she knows a good plumber. This apartment needs some serious work.

P.S. My mom called yesterday. She asked if I'd cleaned the bathroom yet. I'm starting to think she's psychic. Or maybe she's just been reading my internet history. Either way, I'm buying a hazmat suit. Just in case.