The Message Is Clear: By

Words Betrayed Her: Beautiful Butterflies In Her Mind; Dead Moths When She Opened Her Mouth For Their Release Into The World.

When I See Gurgling Retarded Children (that's God's Doing, By The Way, Not Mine) Happily Styling Their Hair With Their Own Stinking Mards, I Think Of Adam In Those Pre-marital Days. I Know He's Your Great-to-the-nth-degree-granddad And All - But I'm Afraid He Was Rather An Imbecile.

Your Ideal Possession Candidate's A Thirteen-year-old Recently Orphaned Schizophrenic Girl Three Days Away From Her Period On Her Way To See The Shrink With Whom She's Romantically Besotted.

I'll Tell You Something,' She Said. 'i'm Not Sure I Ever Really Liked Him.' Adam?' I Said. 'i Don't Blame You.' 'not Adam,' She Said, Struggling To Swallow A Greedily Chomped Chunk. 'god.

That's What Happens When You Keep A Secret From Someone You Love: You Start To Hate Them For Allowing You To Prove Your Own Willingness To Deceive Them.