"I swear to God"

Ryan exclaimed, his eyes spilling over with sincerity, "He went out to that cabin in the woods, and those three old ladies -they call them the witch doctors- they cured his fuckin' cancer."

Mitch took a semi-skeptical bite from one of his chicken fingers, "What did they do?"

"I don't know, nobody fuckin' knows. The people that come back from seeing them three witch doctors, they don't say nothin', except, 'I was cured', then they clam up."

"Where is this place?" Kevin interjected, "I should go there and steal their shit."

"Fucked if I know where it is. Out in the fuckin' bush somewhere outside Thunder Bay. You guys can ask Bill yourself next time you see him. Doctor gave him a year to live, he went out to these three old witch doctors, came back and not a fuckin' trace of cancer. The doctor said, 'I can't fuckin' believe it. I have no fuckin' way to explain this.'"

The millwrights looked around the table at each other. Other than Mitch (who only felt a mild revulsion at the notion), there was a complete lack of scorn in their countenances. They trusted each other with a blindness that only comes from spending endless working hours together. There was no reason for Ryan to lie.

Donnie was the oldest of the bunch at around 55. He had a childlike demeanour that belied his grey hair, thick glasses, large waistline and hearing aid. Certainly his way of speaking in a sort mumbly lisp-whisper contributed to others' perception of him as childlike, "It's like this story I heard about a guy named Jim Callahan. This guy goes out into the desert, right? And he gets bit by a scorpion. His foot swells up to twice it's size and the doctors say they're going to have to amputate. Then, this African voodoo man comes and wraps his foot in clay or a poultice or something and the next day, his foot is all better. The doctor can't figure it out."

Even Mitch starts to nod in agreement. Two stories of supernatural healing must mean that there's something at work here beyond our comprehension. They all take a moment to contemplate the implications. Ryan is the first to break the silence.

"My sister in law made me go to this convention the other day about this special chocolate. Fuckin' conference was boring as hell. Sat there for two fuckin' hours listening to people talk about special chocolate. Supposedly there are different kinds that can cure leukemia and obesity and all kinds of different things. Some lady that spoke said she lost 95 pounds on this shit!"

"Did you try it?" Kevin asked.

"Fuck no, the stuff costs like $120 a box."

"You were there for two hours and they didn't let you try it?"

"Well yeah, I sampled it, but I didn't buy any."

"How did it taste?"

"Tastes like fuckin' ass but they say it can cure leukemia and shit. Apparently the way it works is you buy it from them and then you recruit other people to sell it and you get a share of their profits or something. It's like a ladder."

"Sounds like Amway."

"No, it's a fuckin' ladder..."