Random Esquire

Bluetooth and I rode the elevator down together a few days ago. As we parted ways, she asked if I would like her to pray for my arm. I said sure. I thought she meant that she would go home, kneel by the side of her bed (after her bath and tooth brushing), and ask God to bless my arm.

Not so.

As she walked away, she motioned at me to follow her and said, “Well, come on!”

You know, I really would hate to break this trend of stupidity on my part. I followed her. She put her hands on my arm and said, “In the name of Jesus Christ, I command that this arm be healed!” She went on and said similar things in the same general vein. I concentrated on keeping my eyes on the ground while she performed an exorcism on my arm. After about 60 seconds of this, she looked up at me and said, “It’s healed now, isn’t it?” I moved it around a little bit (I had taken some ibuprofen just an hour earlier). I just said, “Thank you.” I did not know what else to say. She said, “You need to thank Jesus. Say ‘thank you, Jesus.’”

Here is living proof that something is seriously wrong with me: I said, “um..thank you, Jesus.”

And this is why I continue to be a freak magnet.

I told Instigator. She said, “YOU ARE GOING TO BLOG ABOUT THIS AREN’T YOU?”