Out Demon! Out!

After completing five weeks of my doctor's long term cure for my illness and her need for a new wardrobe, with her goal being achieved and mine still lacking, I decided an alternative approach to ending my distress was called for.

"Come in my son, come in. Now how can I help you?"

"Father, I'm here for an exorcism."

"Have you been throwing up guacamole.?"

"No, but I'll give it a try if you've got some."

"Head spinning all the way around?"

"No. It stays stationary while my body does the full three sixty.

"And you suspect a demon?"

"I'm sure of it. I speak in a strange voice and often in a strange language with a lot of vowels. I can feel it inside of me and it's going, 'Heh heh heh, gotcha ya bastard.' Worse than that, I haven't felt like playing golf and when I cough, my dogs flee the room.

"That golf thing is really bad. Tell me my Son, are you Catholic?"

"Uh, No."

"What are you then?"

"Well, I'm a kind of Buddhist/Taoist/Christain/Jew/Agnostic...more or less. I believe in something. I just can't define it, but like the Supreme Court, I'll know it when I see it."

"Oh that's bad."

"Why so?"

"Because the demons of that religion are the toughest kind to get rid of. Holy water, crosses, and tossing a lot of Latin at them just doesn't work. Your situation may be hopeless."

"Really Father, isn't there anything you can do?"

"I have heard of a case where another substance sacred to The Church was called upon to aid a similarly stricken individual. I am not, however, permitted to recommend this treatment."

"Please Father, I'm suffering here."

"Okay then, it's only a small sin for me to tell you, but I cannot do so aloud. The Church has ears everywhere."

With that he scribbled one word on the palm of his hand, showed it to me, and then fled the room.

"Thanks Father," I hollered after him. "I'll get right on it."

The word?

"Wine."

No wonder everyone in this country is Catholic.