“No,” he said, shaking his head and smiling wryly.
It was almost disappointing.
“You could tell me anything and I’d have to believe you. I have absolutely no way of telling if you’re possessed by a demon or not,” I said.
“Fortunately, neither does anyone else.”
“So why go around telling everyone you are? Is it some kind of publicity stunt?”
“Oh, it’s not for the public. It’s for them.” He nodded out the hallway to his departing bandmates. “They’re the most directionless, indecisive bunch of people I’ve ever met. I realized the only way the band was going to get anywhere was with some kind of leadership. But they don’t listen to me—I’m the quiet one. On the other hand, a being from an alternate plane of existence? They’ll listen to that. It’s the only way I could get them to agree on anything.”
Enthralled, I considered him. It was the kind of story that if I hadn’t seen it in action, I’d never have believed it. You can’t make this stuff up.
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll blow your secret?”
He smirked. “What’s easier to believe: that I’m actually possessed by Morgantix the demon, or that I’ve spent the last three years fooling a trio of grown men into believing that I’m possessed by Morgantix the demon?”
“You know that’s a toss up, don’t you?”
He smiled a clean-cut, boyish smile and left the studio to follow the rest of the band.
Well, how about that? I chased down a story about the supernatural and found a completely mundane explanation. There’s a switch from my usual prime-time drama sort of life. And it only reinforced what I’d known for some time now:
I love my job.