The Exorcism of Amy Catherine

When your bed starts to shake in the middle of the night, for a young, single Catholic girl, it can only mean one thing.

You have been possessed by the devil.

So it went at 4:37 a.m. The discovery that the devil had in fact infiltrated my body, and as a result, my bed was shaking.

Well actually, my initial reaction was, "Oh no. Some dude is in my apartment and he actually wants to wake me up before he starts raping me."

Opening my eyes, I saw no such dude. So I closed them again and attempted to go back to sleep.

And then there it went again. My bed. Shaking away. I looked at the clock. 4:37 a.m. It wasn't exactly the devil's style. A little too past the witching hour for his tastes from what I've heard. Then again, maybe he just has a new bag of tricks up his sleeve.

*Shake Shake Shake*

There's not really any proper protocol or procedure for what you're supposed to do when you become possessed by the devil. My initial thought was, well, maybe I should call someone. And then decided that if I ended up speaking in tongues that might freak me out even more.

So I did the only logical thing to do. I went back to sleep. I figured if he really wanted to say, 'Hey. You. You're possessed.' he would've used some bells or whistles or something too. And certainly not the aftershock of some earthquake in Illinois.