Chapter Nine

Several people in Tom’s office were studying for the LSAT. When  they should have been working,
 they instead had their books out, doing problems on city time. And they had paid one thousand
 dollars for some night prep course. Tom thought it might be a cool idea to become a lawyer,
 so he registered for the nearest test himself and began to study for the 
LSAT- but on his own time. Come test time, he scored a 163. The others in the office
 scored far worse. Then, the unsolicited mail began to pour into Tom’s mailbox from 
law schools. It was as if there were thousands of empty seats, waiting to be filled.
 And freebies- like free magazine subscriptions came pouring in. Evidently there were a
 lot of folks that thought a lawyer made a lot of money and it was well worth their 
while to send them free samples of everything. It was an interesting contrast to 
the situation that Sandi experienced. She took the GRE, got a 1270 (630 math, 640 verbal)
 and never got any mail or freebies from anybody. No schools wanted her to apply to them
 and she got no free magazine subscriptions. It was as if she had never taken the test. 
As if there were only a few grad seats available. As if people felt that most Master’s
 and PhD’s made no money. In contrast, Tom got tons of law schools sending glossy brochures.
 Apply to our law school. You may already have qualified for a scholarship. 
Come to our open house. Self-aggrandizing literature about their Law Reviews, 
community service and average starting salaries of the most recent graduating class.
 Thing is, Tom did not want to leave his job just yet. Which meant
 going to a school within commuter distance, and a school that held night classes. 
In Virginia, there are only two- one in Virginia Beach and one near D.C. So Tom thought
 of checking them out before applying. He came up with the idea of sneaking into a class
 in session and seeing how it went. His first choice of law school to spy on was the one
  closest to his job. So he crashed the night Constitutional Law class. It was easy to do,
 as the class was huge and he sat in the back. Now, this law school calls itself a “Christian”
 school, and so religion plays a major role in the classroom. The class started out with the 
professor reading from the bible. This was followed by a sermon on the part of the professor,
 and then some original prayer he had come up with. From this, Tom got the idea that the 
professor was some sort of wannabe minister. Then the professor went into how
 horrible Abortion was. Then the professor went into how everyone was born sinful and 
how they needed Jesus’ death to save them. Then the class began. Tom decided this was 
not the school for him. Tom went back to Francois and recounted the experience. Tom 
began: “There you have it- what you thought was an innocent, gurgling, cooing baby is
 actually a monster steeped in sin, destined to rot for all eternity. What can save this disgusting,
 sinful, revolting, evil baby? Only a death. And not just any kind of death by any kind of person.
 No- it must be God’s only son- like Abraham’s- and the death was be bloody, gory, painful 
and infinitely prolonged in agony. Gore and blood must fly and splat everywhere. Blood over
 here, blood over there- only then will a loving, compassionate God be satisfied.” Francois
 laughed. Tom continued. “But of course, no one is worthy to have God’s 
only son to die a horrible, prolonged, protracted death. No- everyone is disgusting and 
unworthy. Everyone is infinite evil. Everyone is lower than low. We are so low, we have 
to look up to see ground level. We are lower than belly lint, we are lower than toe cheese.
 And you know what else I learned tonight? That you don’t have to study for the Bar Exam.
 Because if God wants you to pass it, you will. And not to be worried that you might not be
spending enough time studying and too much time praying because God can stop the sun for you, 
giving you enough time to study.” “I guess you won’t be going to this 
school,“ said Francois. “ I guess not either,” replied Tom. I’m going to George Mason.”
	Sandi got into graduate school, and she also had a couple of jobs to pay the bills.
 The probation job was from 8 to 4:30. Graduate classes were from 6 to 8. At 9, began her 
overnight superstore job which lasted until 6 am. Then she had her weekend job at a nearby theme
park on Saturday and Sunday serving food to the tourists. Sandi was 56 years old and this 
regimen was wearing her down. She had thought with all this physical labor that the 
pounds would drop off, that she would become as thin as a rail, but the reverse was happening.
 She was gaining weight, so that now she was a size 22. She couldn’t believe it. She spent 
hours tossing 50 lb bags of dog food at the superstore and lifting other heavy weights at both 
jobs. And her secretary job had her rushing about the office and stooping often to file 
papers in the bottom cabinets. She couldn’t figure if the weight gain was due to 
building up muscles, or the stress or just lack of sleep. She couldn’t toss heavy items 
all night long on salads. There just wasn’t enough calories.  So she was forced to eat 
greasy fast food and this when she drove by fast food joints rushing on her way to her 
next job. She was looking less and less like the svelte secretary that she wanted to be
 and more and more like a Polish peasant on potatoes. In the morning Tom saw her come in 
with circles around her eyes and her skin begin to sag and look sallow. He hair began to 
look like straw. It looked like she was aging rapidly. One Friday afternoon at 4:15 pm 
she was beginning to doze off in her chair. Tom came over. 
“Would you like to go with me to a movie tonight?” He asked. 
She jerked up erect. 
“Can’t. I’ve got a job tonight from 9 to 6,” she said. “I’m stocking groceries. Then I get five hours
 of sleep. Then I have to go to the theme park and work all day Saturday. I’m lucky that
 I don’t have any class tonight,” she said.
 Tom thought he saw her brush away a tear. 
She forced a smile. Tom nodded and walked away, his whole being inundated with her despair
 and weariness. It made him full of weariness. He had a vision of her falling asleep 
at the wheel and going off the side of the road. He had to do something. Then Tom 
smiled to himself. He had an idea. He turned around. Sandi’s head was down again, in a light doze. 
"Look at me," he mentally commanded her. 
She looked up at him. The lights were on, but nobody was home. 
“You will not go to your job tonight. Your supervisor called you and told you not to come in tonight.
  So, you will go into the back room and lay down on the couch and sleep until 7. Then you will 
get into your car and drive to my house. You will arrive there at 8. There is going to be a party
 at my house tonight, and you are invited."
 She seemed to nod in assent. Then she got up and headed for the back room. Later on that night,
 when she arrived at Tom's house at 8,  Tom told her that he had made a mistake, that 
the party would start at 9, but he had sent out for pizza which had already arrived, 
would she like some?  She ate a couple of slices while sitting on his
 sofa, the TV on. Of course still tired from her three job regimen,  she promptly fell 
asleep on the couch. Tom then went into the kitchen to make a non-alcoholic Bloody Mary.
 His plan was to turn her. He believed he could do it. He would create a thin, svelte
 young lady, and  forever young, who would never have to work another day
 ever again.  After he had blended the ingredients of the drink together, he pricked 
his finger and let his blood fall into the drink, to infect her with what he was infected by.
 “The blood is the life,” he said as he did it.
 He brought the glass over to her and shook her awake. 
“Here, have this,” Tom said. “There’s no alcohol in it. It’s just vegetable juice. Full
 of vitamins and minerals.” 
Sandi took it and drank it all down. She gave him back the glass. He turned to the TV
 and pointed to it. It turned off. It was distracting him. 
Sandi looked puzzled. She hadn’t seen any remote in his hand. 
“Look into my eyes, Gal,” Tom said. She did. Tom then took control of her conscious self.
 He put her into another trance.  He came close and examined the left 
side of her neck. He was, after all, right-handed. She had loose skin there, being middle-aged
 but Tom thought he could spot the carotid veins and jugular artery. He felt he should go 
for the carotid. So he did. She didn’t seem aware of anything going on at all. He knew he
 had to pretty well drain her dry in order to make her into a vampire and he had never
 drunk a large amount of anything before. He had never chugalugged. So after maybe about
 two quarts of drinking he began to feel nauseous and stopped. She fell back onto the 
sofa and he went into the bathroom and threw up. He was aiming for the toilet but it sort
 of splashed elsewhere as well. He straightened himself up and went back to the sofa 
and Sandi. She was breathing rapidly, a sure sign of anemia. He frowned. 
This was so much work. But he was determined. He sat down on the edge of the sofa, pulled 
her up to him. She was a rag doll this time.  He bit again and drank again. Then she 
was still and breathed no more. He let her fall back gently, and he slid down onto the 
floor next to the sofa to wait. He wondered how long it would take. He 
hoped that he had done it correctly. She was still for the longest time. He got the 
afghan off the sofa back and laid it over her face and form and he sat down again and
 dozed off. Some noise in the house woke him. He looked at the  clock on the wall. It
 said 3 am. He looked at Sandi’s arm, sticking out from under the afghan. It seemed slimmer
 and healthier-looking. Maybe he was imagining it. He dozed off for three more hours. At 6
 am he opened his eyes and looked at the form under the afghan. He pulled back the cover
 to reveal a beautiful, youthful face. Sandi opened her eyes. 
She said: “Is it morning already? Did I sleep through the party?” 
Tom just leaned on his arm and stared at her. He thought that he was in love. 
At that point he became aware of a presence behind him and he turned to see Francois. 
“Who is this ravishing young lady?” asked the Baron. 
“You know Sandi- the capable secretary at Probation,” replied Tom. 
Baron Francois looked at Sandi, then at Tom in surprise. He had seen the old Sandi,
 and he was amazed at the change. It was incredible, he thought. Tom had
 to agree. Sandi now looked twenty. Sandi sat up and saw that her dress was just hanging off
 of her. She had gone from a size 22 to a size 6. She was puzzled by this. 
“Boy, I seem to have lost a lot of weight,” she said.
 “Oh,” Tom lied, “There was a drug representative at the party last night giving 
out free samples of some new wonder drug and he said that it would take off a lot
 of water weight. Don’t you remember?” 
”No, not really. What was the name of the drug?” Sandi disliked taking medications and drugs.
 “’Wonder Water Loss’, or something. I’m not sure,” lied Tom again.  
Then she became consternated. “How will I be able to load freight off of trucks, being so skinny?”
 “Oh, you’ve forgotten so soon,” said the Baron, joinging in the lie-fest, “You accepted
 a job with me over at my office as the new paralegal.” 
The Baron looked over at Tom and smiled. 
“I did?” 
“Yes. The pay starts at $20 an hour.”
 “It does?”
 “Yes. You are to start Monday morning.” 
“What about me giving two weeks notice at Probation?”
 “Oh, don’t worry about them. My needs as Prosecutor are more important.” 
Tom had to smile back at the Baron. 
The girls back at Probation were livid. How dare she not give two weeks notice! They remarked.
 Never was a good secretary, anyway, some said. Others nodded in agreement. Alas, there was 
no one there  to do their work anymore while they wasted the first two hours of the work 
day going from carrel to carrel, socializing. Sandi did
 so much of their work that the supervisor had to remind the girls that they were sworn 
officers of the court and Sandi was not, and therefore she could not perform their duties
 but they didn’t care. Eventually, one of the girls would apply to the CIA, get accepted,
 and leave to go “work” for them. Couldn’t happen to a nicer bunch, Tom thought. Of course,
 now working for the DA, Sandi became swept up in his social circle. Which meant a  fair
 amount of partying at night. Sandi donated the baggy, flowery 22W clothes and got herself
 some suits. And formal evening gowns. Now, Sandi had always had a crush on Tom (like the
 other girls) but had never let on. Now looking good, she felt emboldened to approach him,
and ask him out for a date. There was to be a party on a cruise ship out of Norfolk.
It was to sail about the Chesapeake Bay for a couple of days and she invited Tom.
 It had a party deck, gourmet food and a band. Tom, in turn, invited Sandi to the Harrison
 Opera House for operas and to the Ferguson Center for ballets and concerts. And to rock
 concerts at the Amphitheatre. 
The Baron was good to his word and Sandi went on board as one of his paralegals. More 
competent than the others he had. For instance, like the time the Baron as DA was 
prosecuting an abusive parent. The police had found the child's blood on the sheets and a 
chemist had been called in to verify the DNA but the DA's dummy paralegals had forgotten 
to subpoena the chemist to show up to testify as a witness on the day of trial and the 
abusive parent got off scott free. The whole area was rife with corruption. When a 
job opening became available and it was advertised and people sent in their 
resumes, Human Resources was supposed to cull out the best resumes and send these
 folks over to the DA office or another city office to be interviewed.  Thing is,
 the HR people were tossing out the best resumes and sending over the resumes of their
 relatives, friends and fellow church parishoners for the DA to interview. Sandi herself had
 once been caught in a mess like this some 10 years previously. She had been
 a GS-7 technician at a hospital for 8 years, and her boss had liked her so much that 
when a GS-9 position in the lab became available, he wanted Sandi in that slot. He felt she
 was the best qualifed for it. After all, she had been doing GS-9 duties for eight years
 already at GS-7 pay. But according to guidelines, he had to advertise the position
 to the outside world. But he had no intention of hiring anyone else but Sandi.
 And he encouraged Sandi to submit her resume and he hand-carried it over to HR himself.
 But when it came time for the HR people to submit resumes of people for him to interview,
 Sandi's resume wasn't among them. He got just two resumes, and they were relatives
 of some of the HR people and these two didn't even have any experience at the GS-5 level.
 Incensed, he bounced the two resumes back and demanded that Sandi's be one of them.
 They complied, and he didn't even bother to interview the other two.  And Sandi just
 kept on doing what she had been doing already. The corruption in the
 city government also extended to jury duty. Tom saw offenders in his cubicle 
that had a mile long criminal record and they were called often for jury duty.
  Their criminal records were so bad that no-one would hire them anyway, and so
 they were actually making jury duty their career, being called in time and time again
 with nary a break between cases. Meanwhile, the other people in the community, retired
 naval officers and pentagon colonels and such with perfect backgrounds were wondering 
why they were never being for jury duty. So, how would you, with no police record,  
like to be judged by jury members with a whole list of misdemenors 
to their credit?  But the police department in this city was pretty above-board.
 Whether it was due to the two bimbos Stone and Brady, Tom did not know, but he had 
never heard of any corruption in that department. 
While we are here, this seems a good time to discuss 
law things. Legal tricks and all. Now Tom  took a course at night in criminal law
 at the nearby community college.  The class had all sorts, including prospective 
FBI agents. So they said. The professor, a Chief of Police  from
 a nearby county, York or James City or something name of Brace,  himself had boasted 
that he had had some twenty years interrogating people, and that he could break anyone 
down. Uh oh. And Brace was of the opinion that everyone broke the law all the time. 
Littering, speeding, whatever. So Brace challenged his class by telling them that they
 could not commit any crime for a week. Which he felt was not possible. And then when 
the class next met, if anyone told him that he had commited no crime, Brace  could 
interrogate him in front of the class and prove that he had. If there was anyone who 
was sinless for this week, Brace would give them 5 points extra credit. Tom went 
up to Brace after class. Tom was of the habit of throwing apple cores out the window 
while driving. He sort of looked on it as a johnny-appleseed-sort-of-thing. He said 
to Brace: "Can I still throw apple cores out the window? It's not really littering because
 it's biodegradable." To which Brace replied: "Well, why then not throw bodies 
out of the car onto the shoulder of the road as well? They're biodegradable, too." 
Tom thought this was a goofy comparison. But for one week, Tom did not throw any apple
 cores or peach pits or banana peels out the window while driving. And come next class
 period, the professor threw down the gauntlet. Tom looked over at the prospective 
FBI agents who were silent. Weenies, he thought, and he raised his hand. Brace smiled
 broadly at this volunteer/victim. Tom scooted his front row chair over in front of the
 professors desk and the police interrogation began. Brace began to grill him, and in the 
manner in which he had criminals too numerous to count over the years. But he could find no
 fault with Tom. After some ten minutes, he paused, unsure how to proceed next. Tom smiled.
 "Come on," Tom laughed, "Interrogate me some more." 
"Alright. Do you take a half hour lunch every day?"  
"No," replied Tom." Some days I take no lunch."
 "Aha!" Exclaimed Brace. "You have broken the law. OSHA regulations require a half hour
 lunch every day."
 "Huh!" Exclaimed Tom.
 But he got his five points, anyway. And a nice recommendation letter from Brace when he
 applied to George Mason School of Law. When Tom got accepted in the Spring, he began
 to study everything he could about the courtroom befdore he would start classes at night
 in the fall. Like, if you are nice to the clerks and bring them doughnuts, they will pick
 easy judges for you. And you can lie like a rug to anybody else, just never 
let the jury catch you lying to them. And of blowing the jury's mind by sticking tape under
 your water glass and then setting it on the edge of the table, so that the jury will pay no
 attention to the DA cross- examining your client, they will be so busy wondering why your
 glass hasn't fallen over. And he learned all the good lawyer jokes. Such as: the difference
 between an accomplice and a criminal defense lawyer is that the 
accomplice helps the criminal before the crime and the defense lawyer helps the criminal after the crime.
 Which probably explains why Brace had such a dim view of everybody. But let me tell you, if you apply to
 law school and get in, take some pre-law night classes beforehand at the local community college, taught
 by actual police chiefs and lawyers.  Like criminal law and legal research. It will help make your first
 year of law school a lot easier. Back to the story. When the defense attorneys saw Sandi at the DA's desk
 during court, they got upset. Alot of lawyers will hire eye candy and take them to court so as to distract
 the male members of the jury.  The solution is to challenge the babe. To show the jury that there is no real
 reason why the broad is there. And so they said out loud: "I'm sure your assistant there has the deposition
 papers" (or whatever) and of course, Sandi always did. Since the DA now had a capable assistant, and a good 
looking one to boot, his number of courtroom wins began to go up. Important, when you are an elected official.
 Sandi loved being over at the Commonwealth Attorney's Office. Putting on those dark pin striped suits and 
high heels, pulling her wheely thingy suitcase full of court papers behind her as she accompanied the DA over
 across the street to the court building...meanwhile they were having a heck of a time finding a replacement
 secretary at probation. It didn't pay enough to interest a real secretary to apply. Six bucks an hour. 
So they tried interns from the nearby schools but the interns quit after just a couple of days or even a 
couple of hours, with comments like: "I don't have to put up with crap like this!" So the probation officers
 were relegated to taking turns at the front desk. But at least, they no longer had the time to play solitaire
 on their computers or other downloaded games or spend hours talking about dumb things or socializing. And what
 really seemed to gripe them was that the secretary's computer could not access the internet. Oh, well. Sandi's,
 at her new job, could, which she used  to access Westlaw and Lexis-Nexis. Now Sandi was able to provide the DA 
with a lot of cases that could really slam the criminal. But Sandi was studying psychology at night at 
grad school, and she felt that criminal behavior was more a product of a mentally unbalanced mind and 
what a criminal needed was not jail but psychotherapy. So she sort of served as a more humane element
 in the Prosecutor's office. Unlike the summer interns from the local christian law school flying
 high on self-righteousness who wanted to throw the criminal in jail and throw away the key. 
Eventually, Sandi  had to quit her work at the DA's office. This master’s program did not require
 a thesis, but they did require that Sandi work for a whole year without pay at a nearby 
social services organization. They called this an “internship”. During this year Sandi lived entirely
 off of financial aid. It was exciting working in the mental health field. At times Sandi imagined
 herself to be Freud. She had a couch for the patients and she psychoanalyzed them. But some patients
 griped Sandi. She vented on Tom. 
“I have this patient, this healthy young buck who refuses to work or to go to school. 
He also refuses to get married and have kids. See, his parents are really old. They had a
 whole bunch of kids before they had him, and his brothers and sisters are really old 
enough to be his parents. And his parents are old enough to be his grandparents. He has brothers
 in different states who have good businesses, and when he wants work, he can always go to them and get it.
 Displacing, of course, the full time, committed worker with a family that his brothers have already hired.
 They get chucked off to the side, and he takes their place. After a week, he decides he doesn’t feel like
 working anymore, and then runs back to mama. His parents who are old and don’t have the energy anymore to 
mow their lawn and paint their fence welcome him back so that he can help with the chores. He’s suicidal.”
“Suicidal?”
“He’s so bored with his life, that he is contemplating suicide. He asks me if there is any religion
 that doesn’t consider suicide a sin.” 
“Yeah, well, the samurais committed hara kiri. That’s Shinto, isn’t it? He better not hope
 that Christianity is the right one, for his sake, if he kills himself. 
Suicide is considered to be an especially bad sin." said Tom.
" I swear, said Sandi. "Religion is the worst kind of mental illness. Freud was right: It’s
 a childish fixation on a Father figure.” Then she thought and smiled. My boss forbids any 
religious picture or statue in my office. She says I can have angels, though. I’m thinking,
 what if I bring in a little statue of Athena, or Thor?”
“Now you’re just being silly,” Tom smiled. “Why Thor?” 
“I used to read the comic book. Marvel comics put it out. Thor was this big blonde dude with long blonde hair, 
sort of like the guys on the covers of the romance novels. Maybe that was why I liked him so much. He was loyal
 to the nth degree. But dumb as a doorknob. I admired his rippling muscles as he stomped the evil monster.”
 “I remember the series,” said Tom. “He was always getting kicked out of Valhalla because he kept
 disobeying his dad, Odin. And remember his followers? Fandral the Dashing, Hogan the Grim, and Falstaff,
 who was clinically obese. A long time ago I once went for a job as a teacher in a private school,"
 continued Tom, "and they had me fill out this enormous form that asks what religious experiences I have had. 
It says: feel free to attach pages. Really. It’s none of their g-d business.
 So I just wrote: Justification by Works. Well, the principal who interviewed me was fuming
 when he read the form.  He picked up a bible and waved it around and intimated that I’m going
to rot in Hell. Needless to say, I didn’t get the job. I told some guys at work and 
they just laughed and said: That’ll teach you to tell the truth during an interview! 
The whole place looked so dismal, too. The secretaries in the outer office looked glum...
they were so worried that they were going to go to hell, I guess.  There are some books out
 now that I really must read somethime  in which atheists attack God and  Right-wing 
conservatives attack atheists."
" I notice your didn’t say the word 'Christian'." smiled Sandi.
 “Naw. To me, the only Christians are the Amish. And maybe the Franciscans.”   The 
dudes who really get me going are the End of the World idiots. I ran into a dude who
 told me that he actually voted for Bush, hoping that he would bring about the end of
 the world. Thing is, it was the Bush before Clinton. If a psychologist, during a
 word –association test, you know- I say apple and you say orange…would ask me “Christian” 
I would reply: 'The Dark Ages'." 
There never really was a Dark Age, I don’t think, replied Sandi. I’ve been studying  history. See,
the ancient greeks used to have their center of civilization in Athens. Where they built the acropolis.
 Where Pericles and Socrates and Plato hung out. Then the Macedonians took them over with Alexander the Great.
 Then they moved their civilization south to Alexandria, Egypt, where they
 built the great library. Then the Romans took over. When the Roman empire fell, the Greek civilization
 was moved to Constantinople and was called Byzantine. It dwelt there until the Renaissance thinkers
 in Italy who traveled to Constantinople discovered the Greek writings and incorporated its 
civilization into their own. That was the time of Michelangelo and Leonardo da Vinci.  Then
 came the Restoration. The founding fathers of America, Jefferson 
and all, incorporated the Greek notion of Democracy for America. And their love of science.
So, when  people ask: what would Jesus do? I would ask: can you tell me what Athena would do?"
"yeah, then?" asked Tom.
"If I were Athena,"began Sandi,"I’d institute Universal Health Care. I’d get rid of the Electoral
 College, which is not democracy. I’d restart the Space Program. I’d order Detroit to start making
 cars to run on pure 100% ethanol and stop this Arab dependence on oil. American farmers could take
 their excess corn and convert it to ethanol instead of being paid to dump it by the federal government.
 And speaking of farmers, I’d have them stop feeding antibiotics to their livestock. Antibiotics are 
for sick people. I would reduce the war budget and turn the money to financing cultural events. 
I would stop air shows. They are vain and idiotic. I would oversee cancer research, so that there was
 no duplication of effort like there is now. I would take all sex off of the Internet."
"Interesting," said Tom. "Define sex."
" Touching and bare skin below the neck."
" Boy, you are ruthless."
 She smiled. "It’s supposed to be the information superhighway. I’m so tired of putting in the
 words T. Rex and coming up only with sex sites. To continue:  I’d build subways in every
 city for the disabled. The Supreme Court nominations would be a 10 year term, not a life term.
 I’d have FDA inspectors inspect all food, and regularly. Not just when thousands of 
children die. I’d stop the export of blue collar jobs to China and the export of white collar jobs to India.
 I’m so tired of when I try to get technical help I’m routed long distance to some guy with a Hindu accent.
 I’m also so tired of seeing all these abandoned stores along the main drag from bankruptcies or whatever. 
There are stores along there that have been empty for twenty years. I don’t know if the owners are getting 
a tax write-off, but it pulls down the whole community. I’d make it a law that any business that is an empty
 shell for over a year gets taken over by the government and auctioned off to the highest bidder." 
"What about gun legislation?" asked Tom, who had pacifist thinking. 
Sandi shook her head. "Gun legislation can’t be enforced, just like drug use. Also,
in the public schools, all the major religions should be taught and with no slants
 favoring one or the other."
" What about Intelligent Design?" asked Tom.
Sandi laughed. "Ah. Looking about, I only see tsuamis, earthquakes, floods, disease, death
 and suffering caused by the vicious bitch called Mother Nature."