The Gonzo Wolf

I had a strange, old rich lady in my kitchen the other night (not for dinner; we eat regular food just like the rest of you) who tried her best to convince me Satan was real. Isn’t it usually the other way around? God is real and Satan’s believability is the consolation prize? I guess when you begin to catch a faint whiff of coffin lining in your near future, you grasp at straws. Like a close election. Ironic.