making the sight even more appalling. “Well it’s a vital part of the ritual. We must rub the chicken hearts over our neck, the pig’s feet on our ear lobes, inhale the brew, all while singing the chanting these words: Huehyah! Hueh-yah! Heuh-maki-yah!” Miranda wanted to roll on the floor laughing as Conrad scooped out some chicken hearts, despite George’s moans of disgust, and rubbed them all over his neck, all while chanting, “Hueh-yah! Hueh-yah! Heuh-maki-yah!” “Stop it! Stop it! STOP IT!!!” George screamed. Conrad stopped mid chant and looked at George funny. “What in the bloody hell are you doing?!” “Performing the ritual,” Conrad said, as if rubbing chicken hearts on your neck was the most normal thing to do. “I’m not doing that!” George shrieked. “But it’s the ritual. If you don’t do it, then the spirits will come!” Conrad protested. He shook the chicken hearts in George’s face. George swerved to avoid them by standing up. “I think this story is a pack of lies anyway. It’s all hogwash if you ask me. And if your story is, by some impossible mean true, then I needn’t worry. I doubt I have sinned in my entire life!” George put on a very noble face, and strode out the door. “You’ll be sorry!” Conrad called. But George ignored him. Once the T.V. could be heard again, Miranda came out of the closet bawling with laughter. Conrad dumped the chicken heart into the jar again, and took an exaggerated bow. Miranda clapped for him inbetween hoots of laughter. 163
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