So the mudang kept her fingers pinched on my arm and kinda gave me a mean shake, and she was still breathing right in my face with that smelly sweet breath of hers, and she said, “You know that’s devil’s food, don’t you?” And I hadn’t met Pastor yet of course, but I knowed enough about devils I didn’t want no part in them or their food, but my stomach was still feeling so empty I mighta reached out and gobbled down a few more chunks of pork and noodles if she hadn’t started chanting something in this deep gravelly voice. It didn’t even sound like a woman, but it certainly weren’t no man’s voice neither, and then she started rocking back and forth, and I figured it was time for me to run back to bed. Except I was so scared of her and her devil’s food and her strange mutterings that I worrie
