fiction
Diary of a Sociopathic Vicar – Part 53
The first is, “Who is reporting the situation?” For example, are they a mature, sensible, rational person, or do they have a few toys loose in the attic?
The second question is, “Who or what is supposedly being possessed?” If it is a person, then it’s more serious, but probably a medical, rather than a priestly intervention is called for. If it is an object, then – Stephen King novels aside – there is probably less immediate risk.
On this occasion, the person was Mordred of the family Williams – who has enough loose toys in his attic to restock Hamleys – and the object being possessed was his toothbrush. This did not appear to be a harbinger of the apocalypse, but nonetheless, a visit seemed in order. A vicar must been seen to take all people seriously. Even Mordred.
I arrived at Mordred’s house, and was ushered in. The front door opens straight into his living room, and in the middle of the floor was an electric toothbrush. He had placed a candle, small bell, and a book next to it. I’m not sure why people think that these objects have anything to do with exorcism – they don’t. They’re used for excommunication, and so hardly relevant to the task at hand. Let me be honest – if a demon were to be reduced to occupying an electric toothbrush, then excommunication would be the least of its concerns. Besides, the excommunication routine also requires a bishop and twelve priests, and frankly, that is going overboard for a toothbrush.
Starting a conversation in these circumstances can be difficult, so I said, “You know, somehow I didn’t have you down as being the electric toothbrush sort. I would have pegged you for using a manual toothbrush.”
The gambit worked, as Mordred responded, “Oh no, I’m definitely an electric man.”
We stood a moment longer, watching the toothbrush.
Without warning, it turned itself on.
Mordred jumped, and then started pointing his finger at the offending object, and shouting, “Aha! Aha! I told you! It’s possessed!”
A few seconds later, the toothbrush turned itself off again.
“Indeed,” I murmured, bending over the toothbrush with my hands clasped behind my back. It was clear that it had a faulty switch – probably a bit of water had got in – but nothing more spiritual than that. Still, experience has shown that dissuading people from their illusions is hard work, seldom successful, and never appreciated.
Therefore, I find it is more economical to work within the belief framework that they have established. If you play along with them, then the outcome is the same, but you get a reputation as a caring, listening vicar.
“What would you like me to do?” I asked, as the toothbrush gave another little buzz.
“Well, obviously, it’s a class four possession...”
Obviously, there’s no such thing as a class four possession outside the poorer quality fantasy role playing games. I nodded sagely, and let him continue.
“...and I researched it quite thoroughly, and a priest has to do the exorcism. So I phoned you.”
I straightened up, and said, “All exorcisms are supposed to be handled by the Diocesan Exorcist. I would have to refer it on to him.”
“Really? Can you do that then? I mean, obviously a class four is a significant threat.”
“Oh, yes, certainly. Certainly I can. But I’m not sure how much good it would do.”
“Why? Do you think it’s too powerful? Is it perhaps even a class five?”
“Nothing like that. He just doesn’t believe that demons exist.”
“The Diocesan Exorcist doesn’t believe that demons exist? Isn’t that, er, a bit of a handicap in his line of work?”
“Not at all. He is perceived as being very effective. I understand that with the previous post-holder there were something like twenty or thirty exorcisms a year. Now there are none. Therefore the Diocese is considered to be in a far better spiritual place.”
“But that’s because he doesn’t believe it’s necessary, not because the problems had gone away,” said Mordred.
“Indeed. But in Diocesan terms, it is a very effective use of resource.”
The toothbrush gave another, mocking buzz.
“So what do we do about my toothbrush?” asked Mordred.
“Difficult,” I replied.
“Could we spray it with Holy Water?”
“Electric toothbrushes have to be waterproof.”
“Burn it?”
“The batteries would explode in the fire, setting free whatever has possessed it. Not really what we’re looking for.”
“How about we recycle it? Reduce it to it’s constituent parts?”
“Which would then be integrated into maybe thousands of new products. Hardly contains the problem.”
“What can we do, then?”
“My recommendation? Send it to landfill.”
“What?”
“Oh yes. Think about it, and how long it takes plastic to break down in landfill. It will take about 10,000 years before the possessing entity can escape. We’ll be quite safe.”
“What happens in 10,000 years?”
“Technically, that’s not our problem. But I would hope that by that time the Diocese will have made a more appropriate appointment to the post of Exorcist. Here, let me take that for you,” I said, picking up the toothbrush.
“Thank you, David,” said Mordred.
“It is not a problem,” I replied, “Oh, while I think of it, would you be available on the 21st December, early evening? Say, between five thirty and six thirty?”
His brow furrowed a moment, and he said, “I should think so. Why?”
“Oh, just a little job that needs doing. I’ll let you know closer to the day. Here, you might want this,” I said, and handed him a manual toothbrush I’d picked up from the shop before coming over. It’s the little touches that matter. I took my leave, and on the way home, dropped the faulty electric toothbrush in the electrical waste recycling facility at the Co-op.
Despite the wind and drizzle making it quite clear that it was now winter, I made a detour past the allotments. I didn’t go in, but I could see that Martin the leek champion was busy constructing a new greenhouse. Schisms in heretical societies result in corpses that need disposal, and converting them to leek fertiliser was, I suppose, as good a method as any. It did mean that Martin had to expand his facilities to meet demand, but it made him happy. This is the thing about heretical societies – they just don’t do things the Church of England way.
I then had a quiet couple of weeks. Quiet is a relative term, of course – as winter draws in, especially in the run up to Christmas, a vicar’s work expands quite considerably. There are various carol services to take, events to be seen at and offer a few seasonal words, that kind of thing. A new responsibility was attending Mabel’s work Christmas do, one of the consequences of having acquired a fiancée over the last year. Before the event, I did not know what her employer’s line of work was, and afterwards, I still don’t. But I did see a lot of drunk middle managers approach younger members of staff and then wander off casually when they realised a vicar was watching them.
Apart from the festive side, there’s an increase in visits – both to those who’ve succumbed to various winter ailments, and the people for whom the season brings loneliness. Those bereaved in the last year are a particular concern, of course. I can’t help as many people as I would like, but I was intending to help those I could. To that end, if I was aware of anyone who would be spending Christmas by themselves, I was inviting them to Christmas dinner at the Vicarage. Currently, the list stood at fifteen guests. I had toyed with the idea of opening the church’s soup kitchen – Christmas was on a Saturday this year, so we could have had a Christmas Souper Saturday – but Sutley has relatively few people in the bracket that would benefit. In the end, it had been simpler to invite them to dinner as well.
Finally, two Sundays before Christmas, I found the Rev. Martin Dawson waiting for me after the morning service. He was one of the two leaders of the heretical cult, the Sons of Jesus Lemurian – in fact, one of the only survivors.
“Ah, Martin,” I said, “So good to see you.”
“There have been difficulties,” he replied.
Disclaimer: The Rev. David Wilson is unnecessarily dismissive of the use of fantasy role playing game materials in understanding the occult. They can provide a depth of understanding that is not available through more rigorously researched, peer-reviewed material. Indeed, many would now consider a six-sided dice as important to exorcism as a bell, book and candle.
A map of Sutley may be found here:
https://kevinwoodauthor.com/SutleyMap.htm