His attention drifted to the new council table, Beelzebub's pride and joy. A thousand damned souls had slaved for a thousand years hand polishing the anthracite to its present sheen. He reached out and tapped his talons on the glossy surface. Tentatively at first, then with abandon, his head bobbing in time to the rhythm. His fingers froze in mid click, as he became aware of the silence that dominated the chamber. The scales on his nape rose.

He looked up and his little black heart doubled its beats at the sight of Beelzebub's furrowed horns and steaming nostrils. Treacle removed his hands from the table, shrugged his shoulders, and raised his brows in abject apology.

As he tucked his offending appendages under his bottom, his face scrunched up quicker than a used tissue. A painful reminder that his talons were long overdue for a clipping, but anything was preferable to Beelzebub's wrath.

At long last - open discussion period. Treacle was finally acknowledged and made an eloquent proposal. Beelzebub, in a most unprecedented gesture, vigorously waved his tail in approval. The crowd cheered.

Elated by the response, Treacle bounded onto the table clattering his talons in a cacophony of unbridled enthusiasm. Oblivious to his faux pas he settled back on his haunches - eyes aglitter with the ecstasy of the moment. He stretched his lips over his fangs, and nodded regally at Beelzebub in munificent gratitude.

Beelzebub's grim countenance grew grimmer. He turned increasingly deeper shades of purple at the effrontery of Treacle's bony little ass on his cherished table. His jowls quivered. Brimstone spewed from his gaping maw along with the directive to remove 'that devil!'

The demons hesitated, and eyed one another with suspicion until an exasperated Beelzebub pointed a talon at Treacle.

Thus ended Treacle's fleeting moment of glory, his proposal tabled.