My girlfriend awoke to find herself possessed by an evil spirit. The first thing I did was call an exorcist. He couldn’t make it until the evening, so we waited. She threw things at me, cursed my name, kept trying to strangle me, and wouldn’t let me kiss her. Really she was the same as ever, but at least she was no longer hellbent on bankrupting me and making me look inadequate in front of everyone. I started to prefer her this way. When the exorcist finally arrived, I sent him away. I told him it had been a false alarm.
Not wanting the intensity of my love to drive Skylark away, I feigned indifference. I worried that this tactic wasn’t working; seeming bored in my company, she would keep looking at her watch as though impatient to go somewhere far better. Even so, we would always disinterestedly arrange to meet up again. When, besotted, I casually suggested we get married, she shrugged her shoulders and, yawning, said, ‘Whatever.’ I couldn’t believe my luck. The man asked us whether we were prepared to love and cherish one another forever. Skylark said she might as well, and I told him I supposed so.