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Maculate Conception - 7/30/02
By Bel Garion
Published each Tuesday

Yesterday, while reviewing my sermon for this coming Sunday, Jerome showed up at my door. Jerome and I have a special relationship. He asks me questions about life the universe and everything else, and in return, I make sure his body is clean of demon infestation by inflicting as much pain on it as is possible. Because, well, that's just what I do.

The trick is that the demon suddenly believes he is in Hell and instinctively tries to escape. This time Jerome came to ask, "Why does my brain flop out on to the floor of the Pest Control Van and crawl over to cover the break peddle when I have to drive in the rain?"

I knew the answer, "You know, you live in a very different world from everyone else." In a world where there is no sunshine, only black clouds full of rain, where demons exist that you never see, but that you know are there, where I, Bob, and Stephen play the part of gods, and poor Jerome the prophet*. "How do you stop the car if you brain is covering the breaks?"

He tells me that in a panic he has to rocket through town until it stops raining, all the while hurriedly begging his brain to get back in his head. He asked for reassurance, he wanted me to tell him that he was OK, but I could not.

"I think the devil has you again." Forgetting where I was standing, he broke into a run. He hit me pretty hard, even almost knocked me over. I was going to hit him back but then he just crumpled into a fetal position and began to sob quietly. I sat him into a chair and eased him into a state of hypnosis. "Jerome, can you hear me?" No response. "Are you relaxed?" He nodded. "The next time your brain falls out and covers your brakes, just step on it ok?"
Jerome smiled revealing all four of his teeth and replied simply, "OK."

* Victim

COMING NEXT: Pancakes and Ju-ju Sticks.

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