I woke up from a fever dream the other day to find the sky aflame. I stepped outside and stomped out my trash fire in the garden as tiny demons danced up in the ether. Angry, I yelled at God - “what devil is upon us?!” I heard no reply but a cold and bitter wind. I zipped up my coat, turned to re-enter my abode, only to find my house alight as well - a red and orange blaze. I turned back again to the burning sky and cried up to the heavens - “what devil is upon us?!!” The wind hit back and chilled my bones. So I gathered up my trash in a black tarp and began to walk. And I walked for what seemed like 3 days and 4 nights, but the light and hour never changed. I left a trail of old bottles and cans and other garbage as breadcrumbs for my eventual return. By my calculations, on the fourth morning, I stumbled upon a sentient bush, a spiny creature with a silent gaze. We stared at each other unblinkingly, for what seemed like hours, neither one of us wanting to budge. Finally, I decided to throw my watch at the varmint, a functionless gift my grandfather had given me on his death bed, hoping the bush would uproot and scuttle away. With a screech the bush howled back - in a moment of ironic revelation - “what devil is upon us!?!” I looked out at the horizon and all could see were factory towers in the distance, plumes of smoke erupting from their spouts. I sat and laughed. Then cried. What devil is upon us, indeed.