“Who’s there?” asked the guard at the gate.

“A brother in Christ,” said the Devil, and the gate opened.

Between transactions, he played softly upon his fiddle, Old Ripsaw, and surveyed the village with a secret eye. The Pilgrims seemed glum, distracted, like a holiday turned inside out.

Good.

—Michael Poore, Up Jumps the Devil

WOW is that timely