My husband loves Halloween, and each year, he puts up a more elaborate display with hopes of terrifying the neighborhood kids.
Dear Paul,
My husband loves Halloween, and each year, he puts up a more elaborate display with hopes of terrifying the neighborhood kids. As long as we have been married, six years, he has outdone himself every year. The neighborhood kids look forward to and are terrified by what he creates.
I love his passion and his inventiveness, so I never get in his way or complain, but last year, apart from all the skeletons and jack-o-lanterns, the spider webs, creaking doors, and howling wolves, he held a seance and conjured a minor demon, Abraxas. It was okay; he prowled the porch, mostly burped, and farted at the kids. I think he was happy just to be recognized, and no harm came to anyone. The problem was, once Halloween was over, this minor, stinky demon hung around. After three months of terrible odors and broken dishes, a messy kitchen, and a very distraught wiener dog, we finally engaged in a kick-starter program to raise money to have this thing exorcised. After an excruciating night of chanting and howling, flinging holy water and a lot of green vomit, he was gone, back to whence he came, as Gary, our exorcist, said. All was fine, and I thought we learned a lesson.
Apparently, we haven’t. Due to the political climate and uncertainty this year, my husband is determined to raise a major demon and use it to rule the world. I don’t think he’s kidding about this, and with last year's success, he’s pretty confident he can get a big name up here in our house. I asked him to be careful, and he assured me that he would not conjure Lucifer himself, but he was shooting for Molech, the horrible half-man, half-bull demon.
I love Halloween as much as the next person, but I can’t handle a major demon this year. Any advice?
Signed,
Plagued by Demons
Dear Plagued,
Yes, the ol’ conjure a demon and then make him a slave to do your bidding so you can rule the world, prank. A classic, a timeless classic. However, this is not a prank that should be undertaken unless you have protections in place. Conjuring a major demon, like Beelzebub or even Legion, can be tricky when it’s time for them to go.
While a minor demon, like Abraxas, is happy just to be seen and remembered, making him easier to remove from your house, a major demon is going to give you more of a problem.
The problem with major demons is that they are not just evil and stinky; they are also terribly narcissistic and believe that people want them around. Once you get one of the bigger demons, like Legion, in your life, you’re going to have a hell of a time controlling him or getting him to leave. After all, he is Legion, and there are many in him.
If he does happen to conjure Legion, you’ll need 2,000 heads of swine at your disposal. Transferring the demons in Legion to a herd of swine so that they can fall off a cliff to their death is pretty much the only way to get rid of this particular demon. If you don’t have pigs handy, a flock of KKK members or a bunch of Proud Boys will do the trick.
The main problem with these major demons is that they have been mostly forgotten. The ways of science have allowed us to explain the unexplainable, which was once categorized as the actions of demons. Very few people even know the names of these major demons, so you can imagine they have an axe to grind. And grind, they will. Then chop and eat and repeat for eternity.
That’s something else you need to keep in mind. Once you’ve conjured one of the major demons, Lucifer, Legion, or Dane Cook, they are with you for eternity. If you thought getting rid of a demon who has been around for a few months is a problem, try spending eternity with the likes of Dane Cook.
If your husband does bring one of these ultra-baddies into this breathing world, one way to protect yourself is to put personal items; shoes work best here, by doors, windows, or fireplaces. The thinking is that the personal items hold the essence of the person who wore them, and the demon will mistake the essence of the person for an actual victim and become trapped in the shoe. Then you toss the shoe into a pit, douse it with holy water and kerosene, light that sucker on fire, and walk away safe and demon free.
If your husband does succeed, and I kinda hope he does, then you can always try burning sage to clear the demons out. If he does conjure one of the big boys, you’re going to need about 278 pounds of sage to get them on their way back from whence they came.
Another way to rid the place of this husband-conjured demon is, of course, to pray and use the Name Jesus as much as possible when you do. Apparently, demons cannot abide the sound of his name, and it will cause wailing, growling teeth gnashing, and eventually, it will return to its place. The principle works much the same way as saying Nixon’s name to humans: we get sick and need to lie down, maybe have some soup.
If all else fails, professional exorcists suggest you bang pots and pans loudly with wooden spoons. Despite their immense power and drive to ruin the world with evil, demons are scared of pots and pans. Who knew? So, if hubby brings forth the prince of darkness, skip the Le Crussette, grab the old stuff, and start banging.
There are things you can do before your husband brings about the apocalypse. Avoid negative movies and music. I wouldn’t screen The Exorcist on an endless loop or listen to Black Sabbath or The Nixon tapes. All these would bring negative energy into your space and make it easy for demons to come in, and they will, unless they bump into a pan on their way in, in which case, they’ll scatter.
You can sprinkle salt in the corners of your house and doorways. Demons are known to have high blood pressure, and the salt really freaks them out.
Finally, fill your house with positive energy before and after your husband conjures. Crank a little Taylor Swift, Shake it Off, and keep that positive energy flowing through the house; that’ll keep the demons at bay.
My best advice, however, is don’t let him do it. It never turns out well; history is full of examples of people trying to get demons to do their bidding, and it turns into a Keystone Cops escapade of blood, violence, and soul-killing nightmarish craziness. I’d really advise your husband to avoid this altogether.
If, however, he goes through with it and gets Legion or BB into your life, I think you should hand out full-sized candy bars to the kids; the fun-size isn’t going to help with the nightmares, burned flesh, and general horror the kids will encounter when they ring your doorbell.
I hope that helps.
