“Rivera rubbed his temples. "Satan told you to do it?" he said wearily."No.""Elvis?""I told you, it's supernatural.”
“I screamed. You told me not to.” He rubs at the soot on one hand with his thumb, then stares at it. “The dirt,” he says, his voice strangely peaceful.“What about it?” she asks. “It’s dirty.”
“I'm rubber and you're glue," I told Satan, " and everything that bounces of me sticks to you.”
“I want you," she said."I told you so," he said.”
“It rubs the lotion on its skin. It does this whenever it is told. ”
“If you are prepared,” he told his players, “you will be confident, and will do the job.”