"You think he's OK," she asked.

"I hope so. Maybe I should go up and-"

My thought was cut short by a large ball of human feces that hit me flush in the chest. I stumbled back a couple of steps and gagged. My wife sprinted to the front door and took shelter under the safety of the porch. David Wong continued to giggle.

"Oh, you dirty bastard," I screamed. "Get off of the roof, you freak!"

"Not until I cleanse you of your sins with my magic poop!"

"David, I'm sorry I made you eat that butter and drink that shot. Come on down and we'll talk about it."

"DEMON BE GONE!"

Another turd hit the windshield of my car and splattered across its width. My wife bent over and vomited on our front steps. Taking the only chance I had, I bolted towards the ladder while David was in between loads. I took the steps two at a time, and just as I surfaced the edge of the roof, another cat covered in human shit whizzed by my head. David Wong stood holding a second one.

"Don't you move, John Cheese. That poop-cat was just a warning. Next time, I won't miss."

"I'm not here to hurt you, Wong," I said as I slowly and calmly made my way across the roof. "I'm here to help."

"Help? How could you possibly help me? I have been chosen to deliver the word of our lord through any means necessary, and this, my friend, is the only way."

"Now, think this through, buddy. Do you honestly think that God wants you to stand naked on my roof and fling feces-covered cats at me and my car? Does that sound like something our Lord would ask of you?"

"God? I'm not talking about God. I'm talking about my lord, Jesse James Dupree. He has commanded me, and now I must obey."

"Jesse James Dupree? The lead singer from Jackyl?"

"Yes, my son. And now, you understand."

"David, put down the cat."

"You back up, John Cheese."

Slowly, I inched along the roof towards my drunken friend. He drew back the quivering, stinking animal and locked his gaze on me.

"David, listen to me. That Jack Daniels-"

"NO! Enough of your lies, white devil! DEMON BE GONE!"

With that, he began shaking his penis around in large, twelve-inch-radius circles by gyrating his hips. I guess this was some sort of an attempt to exorcise the "demon" in me. When he realized that it wasn't working, he only did it more aggressively. It made a sickening slapping sound when it glanced off of his lower thighs, and all I could do was stare at him in horror.

"David, that Jack D-"

"FOUL DEMON! I COMMAND YOU-" slap slap slap slap

"-was just tea."

His whole body froze, and the drunken insanity in his eyes faded. He looked at the poop-cat and then back at me.

"It was a joke, dude," I explained. "I wouldn't ever ask you to drink because I know how you feel about it."

"But... but the... the demons..."

He timidly tried to gyrate his penis again.

"No, David. Just... no."

"But... Jesse James Dupr-" slap slap

"No. Come on. It's been a long day."

Suddenly, from the front yard, a voice bellowed up.

"You guys playin' Magic?"

We both looked down. It was my friend, James. He was dressed in a hot-pink jockstrap, leg warmers, and a colonial hat. On his forehead he sported a tattoo of the word "Squancho." David Wong glanced over at me.

"I take it you've beaten that guy?"

"Every time we play. He sucks. You wanna play him?"

David smiled. "Sure," he snickered. I knew all would be well.

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