Last night I wrestled Tarana Rum Punch in Republic Missouri. Since I was in the area I stopped in Springfield to see how Linda is doing. She said that her experience, being kidnapped and almost dying and finding out that magic is real, helped her to be born again in the Christian faith. Genuinely religious people make me nervous. Then I feel like a jerk because there’s nothing wrong with believing in god. Other than that religious people try to kill me sometimes.
Linda moved into a trailer a community of her type of religious people. She didn’t talk about magic when I visited, which is good because of the Bible’s stance on witches. She did talk a about how devils walk amongst us. That’s why she and her friends moved into this special community, so they could be sure there were no devils around.
To be clear she wasn’t speaking metaphorically. She and her people believe that there are literal devils that take human form and go around doing bad shit like pissing in coffee pot at work and giving people tickets when there’s still time on the parking meter and stealing the change our of their cars and setting up dates with women only to not show up and committing mass murder.
These devils come to earth from hell to make the world bad so people will turn away from god. Given what she went through I can’t necessarily say that this is a bad way to go. Assuming the leaders of this cult aren’t stealing her money or sticking it on her on the reg I’m not sure what else you could do to deal with what she went through.
The vibe was scary though. It would not surprise me if one those trailers is full of guns and bombs for the final battle with the earthly demons.
After I left Linda and the Jesus compound, I stopped by Triple 8s restaurant. Is that name a play on Triple H? I don’t think so, but what else would it be? I wondered if they would remember me as the sizzling pork girl.
No one said anything to indicate they remembered me at all but while I was eating my BBQ Pork Lo Mein an older couple and a young kid translating for them came over to my table and said that someone wanted to talk to me. They passed me a little piece of paper with a number on it and a crisp $100 dollar bill. They said the money was mine to keep if I called or not.
I called and talked to Henry Fong. Not the DJ, this guy is a police detective.
Rocket Cat 