Guest Post by Norman Franklin
Laying in his opulent hospital bed it finally occurs to McCain that he is not immortal, he cries out for God’s loving mercy…. Nothing. He cries out again and a nurse appears. “What can I do for you Senator?” “Get me a priest, please I can’t stand it anymore.” “That’s a good one senator, how ’bout I just give you some more pain meds?” McCain drifts off…
McCain is awakened to the sound of peanut shells cracking and hitting the floor. As his eyes begin to focus he sees a dapper looking young man with a neatly trimmed beard sitting cross legged in the chair next to his bed. “Who are you and what are you doing here?” McCain asks. “The name is Scratch, and I have come to collect on your mortal soul.” “Listen” McCain says “ You need to leave now before I have a MOAB dropped on the house of your family, got it wacko bird?” “Just calm down old man, you need to save your strength. You won’t be dropping anything on anyone anymore.” Scratch turns on his tablet and swipes through some pages, snaps his fingers and a sheepskin copy of a document appears “I have here in my formerly blood stained fingers a contract, signed by your hand, in your blood which gives me ownership of your soul.”
Continue reading “A Conversation with Scratch”
