“I heard there was this hoarder, like HOUSES of shit, and when she was done with him, he was a complete neat freak.” Kyle threw his cigarette butt into the gravel.
“Yeah, she took this schizo, like tons of personalities in his head, and he came back in a suit and tie and now is a gozillionaire.” Bryce gestured widely at the stars. Soft bass hummed out of the house just beyond his silhouette.
“So.. she like, cast out demons, like Jesus?” I asked, skeptically.
“No! Well, no one knows how she does it, but like any mental thing, ANYTHING, she can cure it.” Kyle said with finality, completely convinced. Bryce nodded emphatically after spitting in the grass.
I leaned on the fender of my truck. There was no way some batty old hag was gonna do some fool voodoo witchcraft on me out in the wild forests.
“Hey, it can’t hurt.” Kyle had sensed my rejection of the whole idea. He and Bryce had boxed me in with my back to my Ford. I had to agree or come out swinging. Wouldn’t be the first time we’d all had black eyes.