Saturday, January 31, 2015

"If your hand causes you to sin, cut it off. It is better for you to enter life maimed than with two hands to go into hell, where the fire never goes out." - Mark 9:43

Heart racing, I inspected the little cone of sweet, harvested seduction to ensure there were no blemishes. After all, even Jesus was allowed to have a last supper. Cole Harrison sat there; unaware that he would be the first to bring about a new age. He would be the first to be seen before the court of the Father. A court that only had one ruling: guilty.

“Thank you,” he said in his soft Irish twang.

“What would you consider your biggest sin?” he looked at me as though I had given him a plate of tiny human hearts instead of the delectable waffles that sat there staring back at him.

“That’s a bit personal to be asking a man you just met isn’t it?”

“I’d say it is envy.” I sat down next to him. Knife in hand. In that moment, my only desire was to finally touch my hands to that red river held inside every man and woman. To finally wash my hands of this liquid lust and replace it with the blood of the lamb.

The man stared at me. Perplexed.

“You want your nephew don’t you? But you can’t have him?”

Cole stood there. Petrified.

“How did you… I mean. I never told you…”

“You’re jealousy has pushed you away from him they call God. You would do well to repent.”

Clive you idiot.

“I should really go check on my apartment.”

As Cole moved towards the door, Clive sat. He easily could’ve caught the Irishman and ended his life, but he didn’t. Instead, Clive Buccatti began to cry.


_____

 I could barely see through the tears streaming down my face. It’s not a good combination: running and crying. I didn’t know where I was running to or what I was crying for but instead of questioning it I just cried.

Blindly, I ran across town. Past the Sunny-Side Up Diner, the home of gluttony, past the Church of Faith, the resting place for sinners and their false idols, past the YMCA, home of pride and envy. Finally I stopped. In front of the Pit. I stood on the edge. Looking down, I saw blackness. I wished, for that moment, that I could live the life of Absalom. To be cast into the pit. To be buried under those stones. To die. I closed my eyes and prepared myself to fall.

Stop. Just stop.

What?

I’m telling you to stop. Suicide is so boring.

Who are you? What do you want? Why do you keep speaking to me? Whispering to me?

Are you really that dense? You haven’t figured it out yet?

FIGURED WHAT OUT YET??? WHAT ARE YOU???

I am he. I am the Angel of the bottomless pit. Accuser of the brethren. I am he they call Beelzebub. The Serpent of Old. The Great tempter. I am the Morning Star. Lucifer. I am the Devil. And you are all these things as well.

I… I don’t understand.

Good lord… YOU’RE THE FUCKING DEVIL INCARNATE. Good god almighty do I need to spell it out for you?

You’re lying. You’re just a voice. A voice in my head.

No.

I can shut you out.

You don’t seem to get it. I am not in your thoughts. You are in mine. You only believe you have free will because I allow it. But I could take it away just as easily.

You’re lying.

Don’t you find it strange how long it’s been since you’ve thought about your family? I mean I thought you loved that bitch wife of yours and your shitty little three-year old.

Fuck you. Shut the fuck up.

 I control everything you think, do, and say. We are the same. Just as I am the devil, so too are you.

Fuck you. You ca… Artichoke. Antidisestablishmentarianism. Michael Cera’s unbelievably sexy pencil mustache.

Now do you get it?

SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!!!!!!

“Hey. Are you alright?” I looked up at the boy’s concerned face and knew that my argument hadn’t been contained to my thoughts.

“Oh” Clive stammered. “Sorry. I was just…”

“Hey. It’s alright. No need to explain. I just wanted to make sure that you were alright.”

I stared at the boys yellow hair. I could see it in his eyes that he was totally gay.


Not that there’s anything wrong with that. 

_______


I’d forgotten about her.

“Hello Clive. Hello… Lucifer. I see you decided to stop playing nice.”

“Hey babe, take it ea…”

The bitch pushed me against a wall. ME.

“First off, I am not your babe. No one talks to me like that. Secondly, the minute you start taking lives, the minute you begin to interfere with The Plan, I will speed up Clive’s chapter. I will take him from you so quickly,”

“God you’re sexy when you’re angry.”

“Did you not hear me? I will kill your body.”

“Do you honestly think that’ll stop me? Empty threats? C’mon Catherine you can do better than that. Or would you rather me call you Mrityu? Śmierć? Malach HaMavet? Dea…”

“Do not… Say… It… We are done here. You have been warned. You’ve already interrupted The Plan once. Don’t do it again.”


She was gone before I could even make a comeback. It was gonna be a good one too. That bitch. But what did she mean about interrupting The Plan? I mean, don’t get me wrong I fully intend take her plan and shove it right up her ass but… I haven’t done anything yet. Looks like she made a mistake. About damn time. 

6 comments:

  1. Y'all are ruthless. This is awesome.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Flattery will do you no good when the time comes for you to join in my dance Lane, but the sentiment is appreciated.

    ReplyDelete
  3. My post is up. If you can't tell. Your the guy that makes me sick.

    ReplyDelete