hand suddenly pointing at different spots on the console the way it often did during our cross-town drives, quietly adding something up, something more.
Finally, he tapped the steering wheel with his index finger like he was putting a period on his string of thoughts, then looked over at me and said, “Well, maybe not.”
I shrugged my shoulders stupidly.
“Mijo,” he said with all the meaning in the world, “do you know who Linda Carter is?”
“You mean Wonder Woman?”
“Uh-huh,” he nodded.
“Man, I love Wonder Woman! She blocks bad guys’ bullets and flies around in her invisible jet. She's the coolest.”
“No, son, she's not. She sold her soul to the Devil.”
“Huh?”
“Linda Carter, the actress, sold her soul to Satan, so that she could be Wonder Woman on TV.”
“You can do that?”
“Uh-huh,” he said with a big nod. “Remember what that man in the movie said?”
“About what?”
“About our souls being the most valuable thing on God’s green earth?”
That was the name of the movie.
“Why?”
“Because the Devil needs as many as he can get before the end of the world.”
“For reals?”
“Yes, mijo. And he'll give us any earthly treasure we want for it. Fortune, fame, money, power.”
“That’s so cool!”
“No, son. It’s not.”
“Oh.”
“Do you know who Alice Cooper is?”
“The lady at the church?”
“No, mijo. He’s a witch for the army of darkness.”
“Oh,” I said, not knowing that a man could be named Alice and that I had recently seen this man rocking out on The Muppets.“Witches are real?”
“Hell yes they are. And not the kind with pointy hats. Cooper bites off the heads of snakes at rock and roll concerts to casts spells on his audiences.”
I pictured the wicked witch of the west biting off the head of a snake in front of thousands of people.
“What kind of spells?”
“The kinds that weaken men’s souls so that the Devil can more easily claim them.”
“Like Sister Alice?"
“Uh-huh.”
“And that girl from the movie!”
“Exactly!”
“Man, that’s crazy!” “I know, mijo. But it’s true. And there's others. My friend also gave me a tape-recording of an old quarterback from back in the day testifying to a crowd that he had sold his soul to the Devil in order to play in the pros.” “What was his name?”“I’m not sure. Ted something I think.”“Wow.”“Yes, sir. I’ll look for it when we get to the house.”“Cool,” I said, believing every word, as it all made perfect sense. Of course the devil wanted to claim our souls. Why else would people subject themselves to the weekly
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