The problem with her husband, she thinks, is that he relates altogether too well to lunatics of a certain religious variety: to arrogant young men who think they're Jesus, to satanic cult members, to Satan, and indeed to Jesus himself.
Currently he is standing in front of their bathroom mirror, staring at his dusty red reflection. He has painted his face and donned horns again, though she'd rather thought he was over this phase.
"Are you done being Satan yet, dear?" she asks him, inching her way in beside him.
"Hm," he replies, stroking the horrific black goatee he's painted on.
"Only I've made tea," she says, holding out a cup.
"Julia!" he says abruptly.
"I am done being Satan," he says agreeably. She thinks it's because he really wants tea.
"Oh?" she says, still holding the cup hopefully.
"Julia! Do you know David Koresh?"
Her heart sinks. "Funny little man in Texas, wasn't he?" she says woefully.
"Yes. I've made a decision," he says, and takes off the horns, replacing them with an awful pair of glasses from the eighties and a Texas accent she's never heard before. "I am Koresh!"
Julia sighs. "Of course you are, dear," she says. She hands him his cup and goes off to find for herself, she thinks, something a bit stronger than tea.