Monster Sex and Fire in the Confessional
What a morning. What a week. Until these past few days, I'd never experienced extreme horror and euphoria simultaneously. My brain is out of control. It's great. To quote James Brown, "I feel good!"
I don't know where to begin. Man, the world needs this.
Sunday service: I'm sweeping the entry to the church and listening to the priest give his sermon about the false idols of our time (celebrities and such). It was good, I thought, except for the fact that everything he said could be equally applied to that ridiculous mythology he preaches.
Anyway, as I'm watching the folks in the pews eat up his words, I happened to glance over to one of the confessional booths on the right. Smoke was seeping through the door cracks. I should have gone for a fire extinguisher, but I was mesmerized and having pleasing flashbacks from earlier in the week (more on that in a bit).
The smoke grew thicker, but nobody seemed to notice or care. The priest is talented that way.
The show picked up as everyone kneeled in their pews to be lead in prayer.
"You are all on your own!" A young man was yelling from the second-story loft where they keep the organ and choir. He shouted it about three times before heavy rock music blasted through old speakers.
It was not the kind of soul tune I'm used to grooving to, but I found it had a nice charm. It was anthemic. It got me pumping my fist (when the priest wasn't looking). And I loved the lyrics:
Just how deep do you believe?
Will you bite the hand that feeds?
Will you chew until it bleeds?
Can you get up off your knees?
Are you brave enough to see?
Do you want to change it?
I laughed until I cried as the parishioners stumbled over each other in a panic to escape their precious cathedral. By now, the fire was really raging.
I couldn't help but dance. The young man was singing loudly with the tune. "Will you bite the hand that feeds you? Will you stay down on your knees?"
When about half of the Sunday morning flock had fled, I got the opportunity to look up and see the dude who started the party. It was Adam.
Holy hell, I thought. As the music ended, he took a bow. Then he jumped. He landed on the priest.
A few moments passed in silence punctuated by echoing coughs. I nearly fainted. But as I approached the believer and his former altar boy to see if they were hurt, emergency crews pushed me away.
I walked outside, trying to understand what had just transpired. I didn't arrive at any conclusions. It was what it was, and I had fun. I know that should worry me, but it doesn't.
I'm far beyond normal now. I mean, really out there. On Wednesday, I had sex with a blood drifter.
Yeah, it's true. She was amazing—a seductive, slinky, silky monster. The believers can have their silly rapture. I've got my own, courtesy of a red-skinned savage from a place I think I'd like to visit. If there are more like her there, it's where I must go.
She left behind another gift from Lucy. Lord knows how many more pieces there will be.
I have a feeling this party is just getting started.
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