Never Play the Ouija Board

The idea of becoming a miserable wretch running away from that..demon, had never even crossed my mind. I had a great marriage, a great life, I had everything. It was kinda like paradise, except I managed to fuck it all up. I only have myself to blame.

"You haven't been home in two weeks, Caruso. TWO WEEKS! You are NOT going out!" My wife Karen exasperated, with one hand on one hip, and the other wagging in disapproval.

I rolled my eyes from her rambling. I knew better than to argue with my demonic wife on a Monday morning, however my lack of self-control got the best of me.

"Hey, hey, hey, Karen, will you grow up?! Stop! I'm still going out!" I yelled back, hoping to diminish any responsibility I may have had from this comeuppance.

"Not without your car keys, you're not!" She said, flinging my extra set of car keys out our bedroom window.

"Are you nuts? You fuckin' nuts? What's your problem?" I hollered back, trying to regain my calmness.

"Yes, I'm nuts! You've been gone for two weeks, haven't answered any of my calls, you had me worried! Something's going on!" Karen yelled back.

I began to feel frustration generating within me. She's right; I didn't acknowledge any of her communication, but I didn't want to admit anything, especially with my ongoing situation, which you'll learn about later.

"Stop with that already, enough," I said gently, hoping she'd cease her verbal barrage.

"No! Something's obviously going on. I look at your face and I know that you're lying!"

I grabbed our lamp and flung it at her. She immediately dodged and howled in terror:

"Aah! Get out, get out of my house!"

"Shut up," I sneered back casually in the most snarky tone I could muster, followed by my eyes rolling. Un-fucking-believable. All of them. Every fuckin' girl in my life!

As I headed out the door, Karen still kept bugging me: "Get out! GET OUT! You're nuts. You are batshit crazy!"

"You're fucked up in the head, Karen." I said, pointing at her. "This is all in your mind." I suggested once more, tapping my forehead with my index finger. I left. That's when I knew our divorce was inevitable.

My local church recommended some former priest named Bill. Bill was my only hope of escaping from this demon. The only trouble was, Bill was a disaster; this guy could seriously fuck up a cup of coffee.

I visited Bill with high hopes that his exorcism would expel this demon from me. Much to my dismay, my hopes were nothing more than a delusion of grandeur.

I warned Bill to not make any records of anything since the demon could potentially use them against me. He persuaded me that he had understood my warning, so I believed him, unfortunately.

Before the exorcism could even begin, Bill had something to say:

"We have to delay the exorcism. I can't do it without my lucky hat!"

I stared at him in disgust and disbelief. "Forget your fucking hat. What, are you kidding me?" Bill somehow retrieved his "lucky" hat.

Now for the best, and I couldn't believe this shit: so what does he do after exorcising me? After everything I told him, after all his "yeah, yeah, yeah" bullshit, Bill made RECORDS DURING THE EXORCISM.

The demon manifested itself anthropomorphically, devoid of any humanity.

"Look at this! Thank you so much, Bill! How considerate of you!" Said the demon mocking Bill, generously raising the stack of papers containing every personal detail about my very life.

"Th-those are my mother's books!" Bill said, attempting to keep the demonic deity at bay, but ultimately failing. What a fuckin' balloon head.

Coming to the realization of his devastating fuck up, he suddenly collapsed. Poor Bill, he got so scared, he had a heart attack and dropped dead right in front of us.

That's when I knew the demon will forever haunt me.

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