Of all the devil’s lovable qualities, the most endearing must be his endless concern for the needs and sufferings of lonely people. What a ministry! Who else is concerned with the miseries of solitary adolescents, skinny women in trailers, old men no one likes? When I was fifteen I went into the swamp to await a visitation. Beaver had flooded thirty acres but in one place land jutted out and at the end of the spit was a stand of cat o’ nine tails. These cat o’ nine tails, turned golden in winter, formed a kind of spiritual antennae. To speak here was to be heard in the other world.
I talked to God and the Devil. I had no doubt they were in cahoots. “Show up either one of you,” I said. “But wear a flannel shirt and blue jeans and shit-kicker boots.”
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