The only time I ever got knocked around in church was by my father. He had zero tolerance for irreverence. He knew it was a sign of the demon lurking in me.
If I intentionally dribbled sacrament water on my little brother’s pants so it looked like he wet himself — and I’m not admitting that I did — I might have gotten a rap on my head from the Old Man.
Me: “Ow! What’d I do?”
Him: “If you don’t know, the demon inside you does. Ask it.”
Although the Old Man never said so, he probably figured it w...
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