Where Gods, Demons, and a Janitor Named ‘Bob’ Compete

Union rules, you see.

It’s 3am in the Rocky Mountains as I sit down at my custom-built white oak writing desk, a handmade gift from my sons. The sound of rain and thunder echo against the walls, soft vibrations under my feet, soothing music to my soul.

It sounds like creation.

Mmm, I’m in my element.

Could this be a casual conversation of the gods? Perhaps talking about the e…