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Michelle McGriff
 Dec 29, 06 - 10:52 PM |
Deadly Teas
DEADLY TEASE It was hard to pass by all the unpleasant perversions and ugliness sometimes, no matter how hard he tried. With all his might, he had tired, and with that effort, the angrier he got. Sometimes, he could block it all out, but other times, like today, it all consumed him. Certainly, no one would call him a saint, but surely, he had to be better than what was around him. Shaking his head, even now, while pressing his thumbs against the bridge of his nose, he believed he was above what was going on around him. “So much badness,” he finally cried out loudly, sounding almost as if praying. “So much badness.” With shaking hands, he picked up the cell phone and dialed. He hated when his hands shook because it made him seem as though he might be afraid. He was never afraid. Angry. But never afraid. He needed to be civil when he spoke. He had a job to do and needed to be professional about the whole thing. “Forgive me father for I have sinned. It’s been six months since my last confession,” he started, sounding breathy and a little anxious. He wanted to get it out before he blurted what was truly on his mind in a way that would end the conversation before he said all he wanted to say or heard all he wanted to hear. He didn’t want to do that, he wanted to hear the man out, give him a chance to explain himself. Before… “Wait my brother…why are you confessing?” the voice on the other end of the phone said. “Why not. Aren’t you a righteous man? A priest?” he asked. “Yes… I am. But—” “Free of sin?” he asked. “No, just forgiven…but then, we are all forgiven if we believe.” “Believe in what?” “God…of course.” “Do you believe that you are close to God?” “Yes, my brother I do.” “Why do you sin then?” “We all do.” “But you feel that God listens to you.” “Yes, and I’ve been blessed with the privilege of helping others to be heard by him as well.” “And how do you help them?” “I walk among them.” “Ah, okay, so you dine with swine looking for pearls.” “Not sure of your meaning, but my first thought is to say yes. I often have dealings with the lowly.” “Then hear my lowly confession…please.” “Fine. I will.” “I’m going to kill a man. He says he’s a righteous man, close to God even and from what he tells me, he feels forgiven―at least that’s what he told me. But then again, he is a swine and perhaps his sin is truly greater than even God can overlook. Personally, I feel this man deserves to die for what he’s done. The others, all the others were just weak but this man, his sins are bigger than even God can forgive and so God has appointed me to be his angel of death. I shall be swift and silent. I vow to cause the man little or no pain, unless he fights me back and then―” There was silence while the preacher assimilated the words, placed them in perspective, tried to pretend they weren’t pertaining to him. The preacher then attempted to alleviate the instant feeling of unease he felt growing in the pit of his belly. “Perhaps you should go to the police,” the preacher told him. “Why? Why would I do that?” “Because murder is a not just a sin, it’s against the law and―” “But confession will make it all go away, right? Isn’t that what you do―confess and forget?” “I don’t know what you mean.” “I think you do. But then again, as a man who turns to the bible to excuse his perversions, I’m sure you often overlook the true meaning behind scripture.” He flipped the pages of his well-worn Bible, rushing to the pages he’d folded and unfolded on many occasions. The thin paper was tearing from the deep-set crease. “And he will change the natural use of the female,” he began, loosely quoting scripture. “Working what is obscene… reaping the repercussion for his sins.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Or who you are but―” “Sure you do.” “No, I don’t know, and don’t play games with me. Say what you’re trying to say.” The preacher’s voice rose just a little bit. “If this is some sick prank―” “No prank. I’m the appointed one, and you’re going to die because of your perversions. There, I’ve said it. You sure know how to ruin the game. Hmmm, how can I make this fun again? Oh, I know. I won’t tell you when or how you’ll die. That’ll keep you on your toes.” He hung up. |
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