This is a story about spit, relatives, and regret.

Remember the days when thinking a thought meant doing a thing?

You didn't have the time or ability to say to a thought, "You're bad." You simply said, "Welcome, new thought," then carried it out.

Why?

Because you were a kid and didn't yet know that some actions can create a new county of hell on Earth, your county, where you have to live now, and pay taxes, and vote every November for the Devil.