The sardonic laughter of the unseen beings could be heard just above the fading echoes of gun shots. Although their form could not be realized in the small, one bulb lit room, they were there nevertheless. After the shots that ripped through flesh, shattered bone, and ended a life, the demons were pleased with their convincing demands on open minds of madness.
The President had been shot. Some crazy religious nut was the rumor that was going around. This guy thought he was doing God a favor by getting rid of the most hated President in the history of the United States. President Jack Prinston’s body was found with four bullets in it, one in his head, one in his mouth, one in his right hand, and the other in his heart.
How America had gotten to this point in their history was beyond many people’s thinking. The prosperity index was so far ahead of any projections that there were no poor, sick or hungry. Everyone that could work or wanted to worked. There was no pollution, illegal drugs, or open sexual display anywhere, and people generally obeyed the law. You would have thought on that bright spring day with the birds chirping and flowers blooming that we, as a people, had arrived.
Why would someone want to kill the President? So many people hated him, not because he was corrupt, or led the country with a strong arm, but because he was a “good man.”
A good man in the eyes of the world at that time was one who let everyone do his or her own thing. Doing your own thing was legal, accepted, and almost demanded in the society that had all but forgotten the difference between good and evil. Good was anything that made you feel good, happy, and uplifted. Evil was anything that made you feel just the opposite; therefore, as long as you did not hurt anyone else, it was good.
Nora sat in the semi dark Lincolns bedroom with her newest medium, Madam Welslie. Welslie was no ordinary medium, as she was known for her accuracy and many strange happenings that followed her. She spoke softly, with unblinking hazel eyes that looked like they came from a snake’s corpse rather than a breathing human. She would make the average person shiver with concern, but not Nora. Nora wanted to know her future and gain more power and control.
Madam Welslie started the session with a short prayer. Now this prayer was not to any god in particular, but rather to any deity that would listen. She prayed, “Forces of strength and power, ‘Knowing One’ who is there. We ask for your presence and ability to show us that you care. Come and give insight, wisdom, and knowledge. Direct this seeker, Nora Prinston, in her quest to please you and do your bidding.” Nora sat still, nerved and yearning for something that could give her peace as well as more power and fulfillment. What she didn’t know was that she would be immersed into the insanity of a dreamlike state that would control her emotions and demand satisfaction of its own.
Nora spoke after Madam Welslie, “God of this time and place, come and reveal yourself. Help me to know you and do your bidding. Thank you!” She then added, “I give you my life!”
Just then there was a low rumbling someplace within the White House. It was a strange groaning, kind of like the one you hear when a dog or lion would stretch itself. Every person in the building could hear it, and in some cases they could feel it pass through their bodies like a wave of liquid darkness. Some even felt wheezy and had to run to the bathrooms.
As they approached the now water logged carpeted area, Albert could see the little trap door that contained the shutoff valve. He opened it, looked in, and reached for the valve, but his hand froze in place. The valve looked fine and workable, but the surrounding area and pipes looked like they had melted into a soft, gooey, mess of spaghetti. Above the valve and toward the main area of the problem was a plaque that read “Shutoff-China Room.” Just above the plaque was a hand written card, that some worker had put there when the water pipes were installed in the building that read “Blessing to this House. May God bring His will through this place as freely as water flows through these pipes!”
Albert, being a Christian, was touched by the “Blessing” and moved by the now gone to glory saint who had put it there. He reached in and turned the valve, and the water stopped. “Look here, Mr. President, what do you make of that?” Albert said. The President looked at the mess and noticed the plaque, but did not see the card. All he could see were the gooey pipes and their weird configuration. One of the Secret Agents said, “What a mess! I bet it will take a lot of PVC pipe to replace that mess.”
Albert and the President responded together, “No way! You don’t use PVC pipe in that kind of plumbing. It would never last. It will have to be replaced with copper.”
They turned to each other and laughed. The President said, “Great minds think alike!” He put his arm around Albert and said, “How about some coffee?”