God’s Helper



It was God punished him.

Just like I prayed for.

The top of that ol’ silo got took by the storm, the barn burned and the woman got sick, just like I prayed.

Oh, he had it coming all right, all of it—the fever cows and the horses shitting their guts onto the field in long strings.

I may have helped with some of them retributions, like mixing the poisons into the feed and maybe helping that barn get burning.

The old lady was sickly besides.

But I had nothing to do with the silo.

That part was God.