A Brush With Death and Demons

Was damn near killed at about three this morning. Well, maybe ‘killed’ is too strong a word, but I did almost die, which is pretty much the same thing. I wasn’t physically injured, but if the plaque in my aorta was one micron thicker, I’d be laying out in front of the house right now with buzzards picking on my tender parts. My wife’s out of town and by the time somebody checked on me, my dentist would have to get involved in the autopsy.

There’s a forty-foot container near the house where I store feed and I left one of the doors open yesterday; early this morning I went out to shut it when I heard rain on the window.

I was wearing a new robe my wife bought for me at Walmart. When she gave it to me, I tried it on and said, “Guess you want me to look like Hugh Hefner, huh?” She said, “No, I don’t want to see you in your underwear.” That wiped the grin off my face. I thanked her for the robe and hung it up.

When I went out to the container, I had the porch light on but didn’t have a flashlight. All I had on besides the robe was a pair of faux leather, thin soled house shoes I got for father’s day last year. In other words, I was scantily clad.

The dark didn’t worry me because Tulip, my hundred and eighty pound boerboel, is always on patrol around the house. I didn’t see her, but she’s stealthy.

When I got to the container, I stood in front of the door opening, grabbed the door with my right hand, and heard something moving around in the feed sacks – I figured it was Tulip and called her name.

Then – Holy Larry Brother of Gosh! – a really big pig ran out of the container and passed me on the left between my robe and bare leg. Fast. Real fast. I didn’t even have time to scream or lose bladder control. That pig could have cut me from ankle to groin and my phone was on the kitchen table about three quarts of blood away.

The pig went by me so fast it was under the fence and in the pasture before my eyes told my brain what just happened. I don’t think the brain believed it for a couple of nano-seconds because it wasn’t sending any perceptible signals. I was barely able to shut the container door and walk to the house.

Embarrassed to have been reduced to a trembling bundle of nerves, I vowed revenge on the ferals. I got dressed, slung my rifle, and filled a Big Yeti tumbler with whiskey. A few swigs got me all steely eyed again and I went out to my truck to head to the river bottom. When I opened the front door, Tulip crawled out from under the truck, sat down and yawned. I intend to deal with her later.

On the way to the bottom, I turned the radio on and caught an interview with a Catholic exorcist. Exorcism has intrigued me since I was fifteen and stupidly read The Exorcist one night during a ferocious thunderstorm. I lived alone on a horse ranch in a dilapidated singlewide that creaked somewhere even in a light breeze. At the time, I believed in a wide variety of invisible deities, demons, devils and ghosts. After I read the book, I really believed.

The guy I worked for was a deacon in a Baptist church and when I told him I read the book, he said, “Shouldn’t have done that, now you’ve got the Devil’s attention.” Great. Fifteen years old and I got the Devil’s attention. It showed over the next few years.

I don’t know if I ever was actually demonized, but the priest on the radio said you could be possessed for years and not know it. I doubt they show up on an MRI, the priest didn’t say, but sometimes the first symptom is something like getting thrashed around when you pass a cross or somebody talks to you about Jesus. That hasn’t happened to me yet, but I did trip over the fake grass at a graveside service once and the preacher looked right at me.

The priest was vastly experienced and knew demons inside and out, so to speak. He thought about eighty per cent of reported possessions were mental cases (I thought they all were) but he had confirmed about twenty percent were sure nuff real, genuine demonizations.

He said demons take an interest in you when you dabble in the occult – yeah, kind of like me reading The Exorcist.

These little bastards can cause you to be sick, neglect spiritual matters, have impure sexual thoughts and be depressed, among other things. This was like when I hear a list of some kind of disease symptoms – I can remember at one time or another having them all. That’s the way I felt listening to the priest, although, I don’t ever remember being depressed.

According to the priest, demons are fallen angels. He describes ‘possession’ as one or more fallen angels ‘entering’ a person. He wasn’t specific, but I have to think that means these demons enter the brain. Makes sense, right? That’s where you have impure thoughts, for example. It’s obvious to me a demon would not have to enter through an orifice because they’re spirits which are…well, I’m not sure what they are, but they can obviously come through brick walls so soaking in through the soft spot in the back of your skull should be a piece of cake.

He described a typical exorcism and it seems pretty dull, except for the cussing and blasphemy, which are common. The rite is usually performed in a Catholic church, if within a reasonable distance, and at least two priests are present with the possessed and usually a friend or two. Prayers are read and questions are asked of the demon to find out how many there are and each one’s name. He didn’t say what names he’s heard, but I doubt if he’s ever come across anything like ‘Larry’ or ‘Norbert.’ (“God commands you Larry! Christ commands you Larry!”) The demon in The Exorcist was named ‘Pazuzu.’ Now that’s a proper demon name.

Interestingly, the demon doesn’t have to answer ‘irrelevant’ questions, like, “What’s the next Power Ball number?” or “How much wood could a wood chuck chuck?” Nobody can see the demon come out, if it does, but subtle changes can be detected in the victim’s voice when it leaves and the person, obviously, stops cringing at crosses.

The priest said a possessed person has never attacked him, although one time a victim did grab his finger. He “could tell” the demon wanted to pull if off but the priest made some kind of incantation and got let go of. Close call.

A priest is not required for an exorcism; laity can perform the rite if they have one of the many manuals available on line and free of charge.

I’m going to get one and read it to myself just in case I’m asymptomatic. Be scary, wouldn’t it, if I started reading, fell down, rolled around, kicked my legs and cussed. Hell, I’d know if I was faking.

Damn, that would be scary. On second thought…

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