Deviled Eggplants

Lucien arrived curled in black tissue paper and muttering in Latin. Or something that sounded like Latin. It could’ve been a dramatic sneeze. Either way, his horns were polished, his felt was plush, and his energy was deeply… eggplant. He was adopted by Cassidy, a barista who enjoys gothic novels, overwatered plants, and lighting candles for ambiance—not intention. Lucien approved instantly. By the end of the first week, he had claimed the third kitchen drawer as his lair, renaming it “The Underpantry” and declaring war on plastic forks. Cassidy obliged by relocating the forks and adding a single velvet ribbon as tribute. Lucien is not evil, but he is committed. He waits silently in shadowed corners, whispering cursed limericks under his breath. He enjoys flipping tarot cards when no one’s looking and once spelled out SEND MORE NUTMEG in lentils. No one knows why. He hates nutmeg. Cassidy caught him one night perched atop a recipe book titled Simple Suppers and hissing at a casserole. When asked what was wrong, Lucien muttered, “This dish contains no soul.” Then flopped over dramatically. Despite his mischief, Lucien has brought undeniable flair to the apartment. He hums when the moon is full. He’s never in the same spot twice. And he keeps the butter dish mysteriously chilled.