I got me some blood put in after I cut three fingers off with a putty
knife. The nurses tell me that the blood didn't have no AIDS, but they didn't tell
me it come from some unbeliever. Man sure must've been a sinner, because as soon as they
got me out of the hospital I was cussing. Drinking. Fighting. Prowling around like an
itchy cat.
My wife tell me, "Roy, you've been the master of my house for some
thirty year, but I'm gonna up and leave you if you don't get that demon blood out of
you." I told her, "Woman, you ain't the boss of me."
Well now, she done go to the preacher down to our Shiloh Baptist Church
over yonder, and they got to talking about it. He knew I'd lost them fingers and that I'd had that blood
put in me. He knew about the dangers, because he's been to school and all. So the wife
invites him down to the house to supper. I weren't there. I don't remember now where I was
off to -- probably out with a jug. But I come into the house and saw him there at the
table. He says to me, "Now Roy, we gonna get that blood out of you. It's the only way
to get the demon out." See, he thought I'd caught me a demon.
I says, "Look, Merle, I ain't got no quarrel with you. You leave me
be and eat your damned ham." See, that was the demon talking. Anyway, faster than a
spooked hog he come running at me, and my wife done it too, and they've got me pinned to
the sofa. My wife, she's a might bigger than I is, plus I'd just lost three fingers, so I
couldn't move too good. And before I know it, Brother Merle done slapped a few leeches on
my neck and such.
After a while I got a little dizzy from not breathing, on account of her
knee in my chest. But then I felt this calm wash over me. I tell you, it was the spirit
moving through me. And I been better since they got that blood out of me. I don't know how
the leeches knew which blood to suck out, but they did. They knew. They was Christian
leeches, I guess.
So near three months later, I was walking in the light. My walk with
Christ had never been better. Then I cut near through my leg with a chainsaw. When they
come at me in the hospital and tried to give me that blood again, I said "No
sir!" I told them, "You take my leg off if you want, or you kill me right now,
but I ain't having me another one of them transfusions. It done near killed my marriage,
my reputation, my hog farm," I told them.
Well, they cut off my leg just like I told them too. It took me darn near
eight months to get to where I wasn't feeling poorly, but I did it. No sir, it's better to
die -- or live one-legged -- and know I'm going to Heaven, than to have two legs and a
ticket to Hell.
