A while back, I was listening to King Diamond full-blast on my way back from lunch. I actually do this quite a bit because I like the looks I get from the Yalies as King goes from a guttural growl to a ridiculous falsetto. Anyway, I had my phone in my shirt pocket, and apparently my tit decided to randomly call someone. So it dialed my friend's cell phone, which was on the table next to the bed where her three-year-old son was taking a nap. She was elsewhere in the house and didn't hear the phone, so her son answered it. Evidently, as I learned later, my breast and the avowed Satanist King Diamond had quite a conversation with this child, for he told his mother that the Devil and his friends had called him.
When she told me about this, I merely laughed nervously and said that he must have just heard the phone rustling in my pocket--that and an overactive imagination must have made him think he was hearing satanic noises. I didn't dare tell her that he'd heard King Diamond, for she has never found my jokes about Satan very funny; in fact, I think she sometimes wonders if I actually do worship Satan--which, of course, I do not. I mean, shit, he's my homeslice, but I don't WORSHIP him or nothin'.
Anyway, I'm telling you folks this, but I'm still going to keep it from her. Unless this filter doesn't work, in which case I'm in deep shit. Satan works in mysterious ways.