Amusing story for sure. One day I'll tell you about my ex-girlfriend
who seriously claimed to regularly speak in tongues. She could do it
at will and it was genuinely coming from God himself. I actually
lived with this person for a time. I must've been buttfucking crazy.
On 5/28/05, Joe Sibley <joesibley@comcast.net> wrote:
> This story has always gotten a big laugh from anyone I've told it to. I
> hadn't thought of it for a while, but I was at one of the locations
> involved tonight and was reminded. And now, with these discussion
> groups, I've found my dream audience.
>
> You'll have to take my word for it that this is true. It has an
> extremely dark side in that it's a sickening tragedy for this woman's
> poor son. Still, I defy anyone not to laugh. It do go on for a bit, so
> you may want to grab a bottle of some monastery liqueur to sip and
> remind you that the Catholic church was at least good for one thing.
>
> May, 2002: The romance was like a fairy tale, in that it was improbable
> and really stupid. We met by chance, she liked my hair, I liked her
> face, this is America, what else should matter? We talked several times
> on the phone before going out. It was established that she was a
> godster, I wasn't, and we could both live with it. In retrospect this
> seems a ludicrous proposition. My excuse is that I had just started
> antidepressants, and as a side effect was going through a priapic second
> pubescence. Her excuse is that she's crazy.
>
> We went to Mercato, a rather upscale joint, at least for a working class
> schmuck like me. The food was great, the tiny table shaky, the
> atmosphere vapid. Expensive nonetheless. I was out of my element, with
> vinegar and oil to dip the bread in, crème brulee, yadda. I remember the
> dinner conversation being pleasant, although I couldn't tell you what it
> was about. But, boy howdy, I can remember what we talked about later.
>
> On the way home, we stopped at Ralph's (That's a supermarket, for our
> friends in Tacoma and Seattle.) for some reason or other. After checking
> out, we sat on a bench in the foyer. Which happened to be near Ralph's
> book section. Although Ralph's has the usual selection of
> below-lowest-common-denominator magazines, all of their books proper are
> christer merde. She pulled one off the shelf and told me that it would
> be a very good thing if I were to read it. So much for the belief system
> détente.
>
> The book was by a home-town (Lacey) author, and a story of demonic
> possession. Not fiction. My date thought it important that I be warned
> such things can happen. Even in Thurston County, I guess. From this
> point on, those readers among you who have seen the movie "True Stories"
> can get a fairly accurate picture of my expressions by remembering John
> Goodman's character, Lewis Fyne, as he listens to what The Lying Woman
> is telling him on their date.
>
> Well, okay, thinks I, it can't get worse. (Fucking Celexa, anyway.) She
> went on from there to tell me that the same thing had happened to her 17
> year old son. Of the many spooky goings-on in their household, the one I
> remember in the most detail is about the demon manifesting outside the
> boy's body, without a host.
>
> The boy, y'see, had been given a phone number by a buddy he met at
> Catholic youth camp in California. This buddy knew exactly what to do in
> case of possession, and had advised my date's son to give him a call in
> case it happened. Good friend, because you just never know when that
> might happen. The son was lying on the couch, possessed, physically ill,
> just ALL messed up. He had the phone number with him. But who should
> come in and steal it but the demon in the guise of mom! I never quite
> understood how the demon was possessing him and outside of him at the
> same time. (See? At this point the story started not to make sense.)
>
> Mom took him to St. Peter Hospital. (btw Isn't that kind of a foreboding
> name for a hospital?) The shrink diagnosed paranoid schizophrenia. Mom
> did not like that. No paranoid schizophrenics in our house, are there
> dear? She sought a second opinion. And a third. This being after all a
> Catholic hospital, she eventually found a "doctor" who puts the "quack"
> into AFLAC, and this doctor said: "This is not a matter for medicine. It
> is a matter for The Church."
>
> Mom took the kid, who was not paranoid schizophrenic at all or anything
> like that, home and got on the horn to the local diocese (-I think. I'm
> not too swift with Catholic taxonomy). It turns out that western
> Washington, hell, all of Washington, is slap out of exorcists. Finally
> she found one in Chicago, who talked her through the procedure by phone
> and fax. (Wasn't it nice of God to invent the fax machine?) It worked.
>
> Since then, the kid wears a St. Christopher medal and about a dozen
> others, and Mr. Demon has not been back.
>
> To paraphrase Nigel Tufnel: "We shan't date together again."
>
>
>
>
>
> Yahoo! Groups Links
>
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>
>
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