112222b

Well, Damn

It began, as I’d expected, with the pencil. It whispered secrets to me, terrible things that I did not want to know. I dropped it and clapped my hands to my ears, but I could still hear that hateful sibilant voice. It was soon joined by the coffee mug, the stapler, then a cacophony of office paraphernalia, each seemingly suffering from demonic possession. But what sort of demon occupies such insignificant objects? A car, I could understand. But then the whole room, walls, floor and all, shouted “Go, go!”

possession they say
is nine-tenths of the law
evicted from Hell