It is your everyday Puritan missionary who knocks on your door and asks you to take one, or take two! My response to them is quite simple. Irony is with the man who cries devil! How come I appear to be your devil, while you succumb yourself to a higher order, yet stoop so low to bide me with your time? Shall I praise the kindness of your people? Who would utterly brace a poor prostitute with glittered robe, unquestionably replace the degenerate about to be slaughtered, render yourself on a scaffold like sheep to the slaughter. The real followers of the humble and ennobled Nazerene have their time cut out! Yet you are still here with time to spare for sacred musings and the right kind of gesture. You are a commoner, but the kings of your sacred shrines are the bigger elephants in the room. Is it not disgusting to replace the worth of kind blood with the killings of men who fail to recite the liturgy? Then rebuke your own devils, and cut the noose around your neck to sink your sacred ship with all its people, render us higher than you. Treat us like the Puritans. Then humility will be on your skins like heaven is to the pureness of light. Until then, knock on another person’s door to bring the devil to them.