OK, so this is day 26 of the self-styled Heartbreaker Boys vacation tour. Another town, another dive bar, another bevy of skanky babes, another barful of blowhards more than eager to get fleeced by them at pool or table soccer.

Adon, with his wingman Evel, is hot as spit on the barbecue and on the prowl. He can't do a thing wrong. Takes him back to the glory days of eighteen years old, money in his billfold, fake id in his pocket, pantie-melting smirk on his face.

The world is Adon's oyster. So why is that oyster giving him gas?

Let me fill you in about these two characters before you make any wrong assumptions.

Adon, you'd guess about 30 years of age, is tall, blond, handsome as Heck with the blue-green eyes of a plaster Jesus. He is also a demon. Yellow-eyed Evel was the deal-maker who tricked him into signing away his soul in return for that beautiful body. They've been best buddies ever since.

Up from Hell on a mission to harvest sinful souls, the duo agreed the place to looks for sinners would be the neon-lit and alcohol-infused miasma of a late-night roadhouse. Or maybe several.

Adon has barely warmed up his karaoke tonsils when Evel beckons him aside with one curling forefinger.

"Got a bit of business to take care of right now. I, uh, left something in our motel room till I get back. Be a day tops, maybe three."

Adon gets every other word through the din of the backing track booming behind him. Left what in their room? A chick maybe? He nods drunkenly and adds a half-baked salute.

"Sure thing, pal," he grunts. "I'm all over it."

Evel grins and backs toward the door, vanishing as he passes behind a column.

It's after 2am before Adon makes it to their room. He's forgotten totally Evel's parting heads up, so when he opens the door he isn't expecting to not find the bed occupied by a leggy blonde wearing nothing but Chanel. He's even less prepared to find a basket containing an actual baby lying on his bed.

It's alive. but still a faint wave of nausea flows through him. Some things even being a demon can't change.

Evel has stolen a baby? Not OK. "That f'kin' douchebag."

Then the baby opens its eyes and Adon groans, shaking his head. "Unholy crap!"

Its shiny eyes are BLACK. The tiny infant in the basket is demon spawn. It beams up at Adon and gurgles. Adon groans.

"That douche Evel better not think I'm gonna powder your scrawny ass."

He lifts the basket and plunks it on the other bed. So they're saving dollars by sharing a room. Doesn't mean his travelling companion gets to park cast-offs on HIM. The baby waves its little chubby arms about. Adon sprawls on his bed and closes his eyes. Maybe when he wakes the demonling will be gone.

"What does he think I am? A f'kin' nursemaid?"

Next morning Adon wakes with a sore head and an empty stomach. First thing he sees on opening his eyes is the basket on its side on the next bed., it's occupant now on the floor attempting to crawl. It twinkles up at him.

Adon refuses to be charmed. "And you can hold the cute, Chuckles," he growls, turning over.

But sleep is elusive. He sits up, ruffling his spiky blond hair with both hands. His belly gurgles discontentedly.

"Guess we need us some breakfast," He stumbles up. "How'd you like your eggs?"

The diner across from the motel beckons.

Adon enters the busy diner with a jingle from the bell over the door and a romper-clad baby draped casually over his left shoulder. The pretty redhead serving coffee top-ups to two old guys at the counter spots the infant and runs over to help.

"Oh, Sweetums," she purrs. "Come on, Daddy, let me find you a quiet booth."

Adon is a little affronted by being referred to as 'Daddy' but he likes the redhead's attention. He nods and she plants them in a cosy back corner.

"We'll take the special," he says. "With blood sausage, if you have it."

Adon glances at the girl's name badge. Rhonda. He smirks, wondering what a demon baby actually eats.

"I'll go warm up some milk for the little one, huh?" says Rhonda, scurrying off.

He stretches his long legs, resting filthy boots on the opposite bench. The baby squirms and threatens to slide under the table. He blocks it with an arm.

"Hey, not so fast, Chuckles. Gonna stick around, earn your half of the check."

Soon Rhonda returns with a heaped plate and a baby bottle. She sets them down.

"No blood sausage, but I've given you extra bacon."

He grins.

Rhonda is clearly enamoured by the baby. "I'll feed him while you eat, yeah?"

Adon certainly didn't mean to. She sits across from him and he passes the kid to her awkwardly by its underarms. Propped on her lap, it greedily accepts the warm bottle.

"So, what's this cutie's name?" she asks, conversationally.

Adon shrugs, mouth full. "I call him Chuckles," he admits.

"Guess he'll have to change that when he runs for President, huh?"

"If he gets to be President you're gonna have more to worry about than his name," he replies, dryly.

Rhonda laughs, assuming he's kidding around.