You gotta be kidding. Then add to this their three boys, as well as their wives, buying into it. One would have thought that the next generation would have birthed some smarts. They were as dense as ma and pa. Nonsense A stick.
Log strips for a boat.
King of the Pit screams fiery orders. Imps fly like bangy bats around your fogged-in head and all He asks you to do is stand there with a twig between your fingers, or five smooth stones in your hand, or some lumber piles stacked high in your side lot. No wonder the boys at the office laugh you out of the break room. But of course, what takes the cake is when He told a muscled fellow to climb up on a piece of wood, then lay Himself down upon its center. Now stretch out Your arms for them to pound a few spikes into Your flesh.