text: I’ve been following Jim Davies for a while now and let me tell you, this guy is by far the biggest headache I’ve ever had. A real, genuine, nice human being. Probably the nicest person on the planet. I just can’t seem to break him. Everyone has a weakness and it usually doesn’t take long to find it. Some people broadcast them and some people hide them away in tiny locked compartments of their souls, but I always find the key. Not with Jim though. I started out small. I would set up a mild inconvenience somewhere in his day to feel out his temper. Red lights, bad weather, the wrong meal at restaurants, etc. Mild stuff, but it adds up over time. It didn’t add up for Jim. Sometimes he wouldn’t even notice what I’d done because he would get distracted all on his own helping some poor old lady cross the street, or rescuing a kitten from a tree. Seriously. This guy rescued a fucking cat in a tree. You may be wondering, does it get any more cliché than that? You’re in luck. It most certainly does. Jim is the pastor at the United church in his perfect suburban paradise. He met his wife, Ruth, in high school and they have a daughter. Want to venture a guess on the name? Mary. Yep. A pastor with a daughter named after the ever so revered virgin herself. How original. Throughout little Mary’s life I’ve started increasing her attitude and disobedience levels. Jim has never even raised his voice. He came home to find Ruth in bed with another man and said they could “work it out, provided that’s what she wanted to do”. He even rides a bicycle to the call centre for the suicide helpline he volunteers with to help save the planet. His church operates a makeshift homeless shelter in the basement, that he furnished and stocks on his own dime. He doesn’t accept donations from the congregation because “God wants you to keep your money”, as if he’d really know. I got Ruth to take Mary and leave him. Cleaned out his bank account on her way out of town too. When I saw him wipe away a single tear and whisper, “good for her” I knew I had to do something drastic. Jim’s neighbourhood isn’t on a fault line. It’s never seen a tornado. Mother Nature has left this particular cookie cutter piece of American bliss alone. Until last night. I’m completely and utterly at my wit’s end. Every home in the area was destroyed. The people who survived have been flooding the big man upstairs with prayers, but not Jim. He just calmly surveilled the wreckage of his former life and salvaged the few surviving items. He even took the jacket off his back to give to the now orphaned Timmy Rogers from down the road. What a piece of work. I’ve already gotten requests from several members of his congregation in regards to making a deal to simplify their lives. Naturally I accepted, but I just know it won’t be the same when I finally collect their souls. The purity in his would have been a delicious deviation from my usual meals of corruption, and I’m sure his screams when he descended to Hell would have been the first true music I’ve heard since God kicked me out of Heaven.