Chapter One
Hollar Nimbell, 60, slept raggedly. He had recently been ordained an apostle in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and often demons invaded his dreams. Apostle Nimbell was one of thirteen men who directed the affairs of two million Mormons in 1952.
Satan wanted him.
The wind rattled the shutters. Energy darted into the apostle’s body and he screamed. His wife awoke and turned on a lamp as her husband flung back his covers and leapt out of bed.
“The devil has me, the devil has me!” The apostle backed into a wall in an effort to crush whatever clung to him. “Lucifer! Inside me, wrapped around my spine!”
As his wife watched in horror, Apostle Nimbell staggered to the full length bathroom mirror so he could see his back. He knew that there would be a bulge between his shoulders where the devil clung. When he looked into the mirror he would have a hump like a camel. Surprise. No camel. No hump.
The devil was cunning. He was inside Apostle Nimbell, all right, make no mistake about that. Two hundred pounds of threshing cloven hooves and spiked tail, squirming within Apostle Nimbell’s body cavity. The apostle lurched across the bathroom and stood on the scales. Exactly one hundred and eighty-eight pounds. What he had weighed the day before. Yes, the devil was cunning, able to will the scales to read incorrectly.
Apostle Nimbell could sense the devil’s head twitching up through the inside of his neck and into his brain. The devil screamed dirty, filthy words. Apostle Nimbell smashed his own head against a wall to jar the devil out of him, opening a bloody good gash on his own forehead. The devil clung inside him.
Apostle Nimbell fell to his knees and clasped his hands together. “Satan, get thee behind me! By the power of the Melchizedick priesthood, I command you to leave my body and my home.”
His body exploded. His brain turned to mush. His testicles morphed to fire hydrants. (Something was working.) Apostle Nimbell felt the power of the Holy Ghost whirling inside him. A searing desert wind blasted through his being and blew the devil back to hell.
Soon afterward, in church and in public, the apostle described his Beelzebub Battle. All who heard the apostle — both Mormon and non-Mormon – acknowledged the apostle’s courage. (Some non-believers, and regrettably a few believers, joked about Apostle Nimbell being too nimble, too agile, for even the devil to catch.)
Ten years passed. Now 70, he appeared so much older that the question was why had the Lord spared him? The answer was simple: although that damned devil was always tempting, ever ready to pounce, obviously the Lord needed Hollar Nimbell. Beyond possession, the devil had attacked Apostle Nimbell with ailments ranging from typhoid fever to near-drowning, had even taken his mother when the apostle was eleven. Had taken his four sisters before they were adolescent. Lesser men would have crumpled.
In addition to thwarting The Devil, Apostle Nimbell had beaten throat cancer, vanquished depression, and overcome facial ticks — well not really, just ignored those. Surely, Father in Heaven would allot him a few more years to complete unfinished work. If ever there was a time for an apostle, a servant of the Lord, to counter the Prince of Darkness, this was that time. It was not easy. Part of his voice box had been destroyed by the surgeon’s scalpel and radiation. Apostle Nimbell’s voice now sounded more like a rattle. Some of the kids in church giggled when he preached. He ignored them. The youth of Zion simply did not understand Satan’s evil.
In June of 1962, Apostle Nimbell was considered the main candidate for the church’s next president of the church. Gasoline was 25 cents a gallon. Elvis Presley and The Beach Boys were on top of the charts. To Kill a Mockingbird was a bestseller.
Gas and literature did not concern the apostle. Presley and the Beach Boys did. The youth of the church were all too vulnerable to Lucifer’s relentless efforts to destroy them. The Devil knew that without the youth the church would perish. But Father in Heaven also knew this. And God favored the LDS church.
The apostle glanced outside at Moroni, the golden angel with trumpet to lips perched high atop the Mormon temple in the center of Salt Lake City. A seagull alighted on Moroni, slipped, then scrambled onto the granite ledge in front of Apostle Nimbell. A celestial sign? Was the devil wearing feathers today?
Chapter Two
A secretary ushered Jerry Wonder into the office. Jerry Wonder, nineteen, had traveled by bus from his home in South Dakota to meet with the apostle to determine the boy’s worthiness to serve a mission for the church.
Accordingly, the apostle’s first words to the young novitiate were, “Do you accept me as a prophet, seer, and revelator?”
“Yes sir, I do,” said Jerry.
The apostle nodded approvingly, gestured Jerry to be seated, whereupon he selected a book from a nearby stack of similar books. He opened the book, signed it, and presented it to Jerry. “In its sixth printing. Consider it a gift from me to you.”
“That’s very nice of you, sir,” Jerry said, which sounded like the right thing to say, especially when the book whose dust jacket consisted of a flattering portrait of the apostle, and was entitled, Get Thee Behind Me, Satan! by Apostle Hollar Nimbell.
After a short prayer, the interview began. Routine questions until:
“You’re from a farming community so I have to ask you about sex with barnyard animals. You ever get into that kind of mischief?”
“No Sir.”
“Ever had sex with a cow, a sheep or any of the other common barnyard animals?”
What, Jerry wondered, what the hell was this all about? But he replied with a respectful, “No, sir, never.”
“I realize these questions may seem strange to you but I bear you my testimony that Father in Heaven says I must ask them. A testimony, if you did not know, is an absolute conviction that the LDS church is true, having been restored by heavenly messengers in 1830. Further, a person with a testimony knows that the head of the church and its twelve modern day apostles are in direct contact with God.”
“I understand,” said Jerry.
“Jerry, some of our young men who have lived in farming communities have placed their penises into the bums of chickens.”
“They have?” said Jerry, who not even in his wildest erotic fantasies, could imagine placing his penis into a chicken’s ass.
“The question is, have you?”
“Sir, I have never placed my penis into anything.”
“Not into you special sweetheart, Susan Cunningham?”
Jerry could not have been more surprised — not to mention frightened — had the apostle struck him over the head with one of the Get Thee Behind Me, Satan! books.
On his part, the apostle felt the power of The Holy Ghost flowing through him. He was on the right track. “Her father and I served on a mission together. I’ve never met the young lady but I’m sure she is a wonderful sister and will make an ideal wife for you. Ever bared your penis to her?”
“Oh, No.”
“But you have, of course, petted?”
Now how the hell do you answer that one? Well, of course, with the truth: “A little bit.”
“Did you ever touch her titties?”
“I didn’t feel too good about it.” Giving what he thought was the right answer.
“That’s the devil for you. What about her private dank area, down low. Penetration?”
“Not with my penis, sir.” Another right answer.
Earning him another nod of approval. “And you’re sorry about what you did and you won’t do it again, yes?”
“Yes, Apostle Nimbell.”
Their eyes locked — callow youth and venerated apostle. The apostle stared into the soul of Jerry. “Never touch a woman in those ways again until you are sealed to her in the Temple. You understand?” The patriarch leaned forward, weighing the boy’s faltering reply.
“Y-yes,” said Jerry.
“Do not discuss what we have talked about with anyone — let it remain a conversation between you and a Servant of the Lord.”
“It will be our secret.”
“Not secret. Sacred, Elder. Like the ordinances in our temple. Return in safety to Sioux Falls and stay close to the Lord. Wait with your loved ones while the brethren decide if you will be chosen to serve as a missionary for Father in Heaven. Guard against Satan’s attacks. They could easily present themselves to you through sexual temptation.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Lets chat about exactly how far you went with Susan.”
Jerry sank back into his chair.
The apostle felt a comforting surge of inspiration for he was doing what God had chosen him to accomplish in these, the last days. And yet his experience and knowledge told him that much was left to cleanse from the young elder.
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