Making Arrangements (Saints & Haints, Chapter 40)

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This chapter describes the end of the demon attack of 2022...

but there's still one chapter left...

Chapter 40
Making Arrangements


Afterwards, there was an apology. A said, in a sad robot voice,
"Yes. That was your daily attack. You should now do... whatever you want to do, for the rest of the day. Scott Jackson, signing off."


December 15th began with another attack. During this one also, my demons were grumbling, as they had been for the past few days. Freddie groaned,
"Jesus... call the cops already."
I had been refusing to pray for assistance, because I really didn't need it, and I was determined to prove that. After nearly two years of this, it was no longer that big of a deal. These attacks were usually just a lot of noise, like a space battle was taking place above our heads. I had decided to let him do his worst, and show him that it wasn't going to faze me.

"To follow Jesus, you have to be willing to give up everything," A shouted, amidst the fake commotion.
To which I replied,
"I think you picked the wrong woman to do this demon-choices shit to, because life had already lost its luster for me, a long time before you came along for the second time. I've had too much shit happen to me already to give that much of a damn. There's not much else you can do to someone like me."
Of course, afterwards, there was another apology.

In the afternoon, I tried to take a nap, but as soon as I laid down, I sensed energy coming from a certain location --right above the foot of my bed, specifically-- and a creepy, raspy voice started talking to me. Thinking that it was A, in a better mood now, and calling in to mess with me because he'd seen me climbing into bed, I interrupted him, saying, 
"Oh no... Don't use that voice. Use... like, a Barry White voice or something."
The voice paused, and then, with a bit of stuttering hesitation, said,
"That... um... I've never had that voice request before..."
I perceived laughter then; and as the "portal" closed, I caught a brief glimpse of the guy with curly auburn hair who had played "Psycho Jesus." He was laughing, and he looked a little embarrassed.

I thought to myself,
"This is getting ridiculous."
Then I rolled over, and some demon started talking to me through the pillow. It wasn't A's voice, but, he had been using different voices. It was a demon who was physically present. I knew so, because I felt his lips moving beneath the fabric of the pillowcase; which was one of A's old tricks.
He began speaking, explaining more to me about how there were multiple Johnnys, and it was the other ones who had tortured me first.
I asked him,
"Where were you at that time?"
He replied,
"I was on other cases."
I said,
"Oh, so you did actually just turn me over to them?"
He answered,
"Yes, but I had never been mad about anything they'd done to any other woman, until that attack on you that I called off. By the time I got back, they told me that your brain was scrambled eggs, and that you probably didn't even know who I was anymore. So, I checked on you, and that wasn't the case; you were sitting there staring into space, but you were okay. You were just sleepy because they'd kept you up all night..."
I said,
"Yes. I remember that. I was just sleepy."
He went on,
"I thought the only thing they were going to do was ruin your financial situation, and I..."
he paused then, dramatically,
"...was pleased with that..."
he paused again,
"...because I thought that... was a good enough payback for abandoning me all those years ago..."
I cut him off there.
"You didn't do anything to my financial situation," I said.
He didn't say anything; but I could feel him waiting for me to say more, so I continued,
"You, or they, or whomever, didn't do it. I called off work that day, and then I chose not to go back. I was thinking about quitting anyway. I didn't have to do that; it was my choice."

I could sense that he was not liking that response. I went on,
"...and I could have looked for a job last year, but I didn't. I chose to stay home and write a book. Again, my choice. You did nothing. That's the kind of thing you demons love to take credit for; but actually no, you didn't do anything to my finances."
To that, he said,
"Oh? We didn't?"
I said,
"No! I was thinking about quitting anyway, and I told you so about a month before all that, didn't I?"
I perceived a contemplative facial expression on a generic face. After a moment, he said,
"Yeah, that's right. You were working on a Master's degree, and they were working you seven days a week... yes, yes, I remember..."
I could sense the eye-roll as he continued,
"I thought you'd be dead before you finished your Master's degree."

Seeing that I was not going to be able to sleep, and that the conversation in my bed chamber was not going to be pleasant, I got up and went outside to smoke. The new demon who'd been hanging around the house for a few days --the shorter guy, with the big nose-- followed me outside, where I immediately sensed that, once again, a large group of spirits had gathered.
The new demon asked me, 
"What would you say now, if I were to ask you to marry me again sometime, in some other life?"
I replied,
"I'd say, 'Go fuck yourself.'"
"Then take that ring off," was his response.
I simply said,
"No," as I lit my cigarette and sat down on my chair. After glaring at me for a moment, he asked,
"So you're gonna take it off, right?"
"Nope," I replied, "I think I'll leave it on."
After another moment of silence had passed, he responded with,
"There's that damned headstrong independence I can't stand."
He turned away from me, but then whipped back around, adding,
"If you publish that book, you're done for on this planet."
To which I replied, with a smile,
"I think I'll publish it."

Then the guy who had been playing A "disappeared," into the group of them that had gathered around the porch. I sensed him skulking around my back yard. The other spirits gathered, meanwhile, were mumbling insults; out loud, not telepathically. I didn't understand everything they said, but I sensed hostility. One of them called me a prostitute, and another said something about,
"Eww... he climbed up in her uterus..."
Then they were asking me to call down St. Michael. I denied their request, however, because I sensed, by the tones of their voices, that it was some sort of joke; and also because my assistance wasn't necessary. They could've called him just as well as I could. Aside from those things, I was angry about those "ruining my finances" comments, and about all the damned lying that had been going on. I asked them,
"Why are you so pissed off?"

Ignoring them then, I started making some notes, and they soon quietened down. It wasn't long before I sensed the crowd dispersing. A few of them stayed for a while longer. They seemed to be trying to discern my feelings. One of them attempted to taunt me with the comment,
"That book won't prove anything, except that you have Schizophrenia."
I said,
"Well, then why are you so worried about it?"
Then a female said,
"We're so sorry for your loss; you almost had a husband..."
To which I replied,
"Well, that's okay. I'm sure the land beyond the sky will be full of hot Jacksons."
Then a different female said, in a nicer tone,
"...and that's all you were going to have anyway, a husband someday, right?"
I agreed with that; and once the extra visitors saw that I was not upset at all, they cleared out.

They'll be back, I'm sure; to pull another prank, or write songs, or... something.