Scared of a Man

Once when I was poor I lived in a sad house with a terrifying man who used to ask me, "What? You think you're going to live forever?" I don't know. One night we were in his room talking and he was trying to say the Lord's prayer to make a point, but he always added a word. He said, over and over, "Forgive us not our trespasses. Forgive us not our trespasses. Forgive us not our trespasses." He became angry and started to throw things around. He smashed his tv, turned over the coffee table, threw the stereo against the wall. I was sitting in a chair, not moving. When it was over he turned to me, he was breathing loudly but he asked me in a quiet voice, 'What's your name again?" "It's Mark." "Go home Mark." So I walked across the hall to my room where I listened to him howling for long time like a bear at the top of a telephone pole. It went on and on. I could hear him as clearly as if he were right beside me. He was screaming, "It's a nice night for a murder! A nice night for a fucking murder!" I was scared, so I went for a walk.