Every single one of us, the devil inside.

When I was in 6th grade, I became a devil worshipper.

Mrs. Beard, my home-room teacher that year, may have taught our class other things, but the only thing I remember from her curriculum was the fact that she was a Christian. And she used many many hours of class warning us of the dangers of Rock N' Roll, and of course, Satan himself.

Sounded pretty darn good to me, and some of my friends.

We didn't do anything harmful. We drew lots of pentagrams, upside down crosses, 666s, the whole rigamarole of "satanic" images. We listened to a lot of Motley Crue and Poison and (heh) Bon Jovi. (He's the DEVIL!!!) I had a lot of ...disturbing, I suppose is the best word, thoughts regarding my parents and my teachers and the people in our church, but I never followed through on any of them.

The whole thing blew up one summer when I was visiting my mother. My stepmom found my notebooks with the demonic drawings. When I came home at summer's end, there was a confrontation. I'm sure it was ugly, and there was probably tears, but luckily my brain has decided to block all of that memory out. Yay for repression!!

Of course now, I believe in neither God nor Satan. Now I worship Pepsi.