I dinged the bell. Then I dinged the bell again. Some Cracker Jack with droopy eyes and soiled hair stepped behind the counter and I spat. “Who runs this shithole?” I ask.
“Sir?”
“I said who runs this shithole?”
The Man Behind the Desk leaned his head back and glared at me from down his nose. “Better watch who you’re speaking to in these parts, mister.”
I spat again. “I’m the one you should watch, pal.”
The Man lowered his glance and swallowed hard. “You mean you’re…”
“Say my name.”
He froze in place then blinked. “You’re Beau Montana,” he said.
“You’re goddamn right.”
His hands trembled. He ran his fingers through his matted hair and reached for a keycard. “My apologies sir. I wasn’t expecting you this early.” I took the keycard and spat on the desk. I said nothing more to him.
I strolled down the shitstank corridor and found the elevator broken. After climbing the steps to the second floor, I used the keycard to unlock my room and stepped inside. The toilet was clogged. Bed unmade. Injection needles littered the floor. The room was exactly as I expected it to be. I took a quarter and unscrewed the air vent and stuffed the fifteen grand of hard US currency into it. Then I looked myself once over through the shattered mirror and sauntered back into the Arizona sun.
Under the wretched heat, I found a Preacher man yelling obscenities into traffic. He seemed approachable enough. So I tapped him on the shoulder. “Cigarillo?” I ask the Preacher.
“American. I speak American,” he said.
“Then could you spare a poor fellow like me a cigarette?”
“Of course,” said the Preacher. “But in exchange, I must profess the word of god. For the saving of your very soul. This world is temporary but the word is for eternity.”
I placed the cigarette between my lips and lit the zippo. “Uh huh. And which god is that Preacher man?”
“The one true god. The god of our savior. The god of the word.”
“And where did you find him?”
“He’s been with me since the beginning. I’ve never known no other god.”
“What about Da Nang. 68?”
“Sir?”
“Was god at Da Nang? In 1968?”
“God is everywhere.”
I dropped the half smoked cigarette to the undusted ground and exhaled on the Preacher’s face. “I was there,” I told him. “I saw it with my own eyes. The napalm. The fire. The wretched screams of burning children. Even I, the devil, could never forget. And through those flames I saw all around me. I saw no god. No goodness. No sign of a heavenly reprieve. There was only the cry of the many followed by silence. Death was their only salvation. Is that your god? If so, then your god is no better than me.”
I punched the Preacher on the stomach. As he writhed on the ground and grasped for air, I reached into his smock and lifted his wallet. Inside was sixty bucks in three $20s. I took one twenty dollar bill and dropped the rest onto his chest. “I left you forty bucks,” I told him. “That’s more than what your god left those children in Da Nang. Thanks for the cigarette.”
Alright, here’s the first chapter to my Christian erotica story.
Ain’t promising that it’s gonna be good
“Amen!” Geoff yelled. It sounded more like he yelled ammo. Her brother’s enthusiasm for Sunday service sometimes annoyed Alyssa Edwards.
The preacher, Brother Ted, addressed his parishioners. “Folks,” he said, “sometimes I wake up in a pool of my own sweat and pants soaked in urine. Could it be the side effects of medication that’s causing this? Or could it be my guilty conscience from all the nights I drove home blackout drunk and full of hydros?”
The pews echoed with amens.
“I think it is God’s way of telling me that I’m a sinner and that every morning I should wake up in absolute horror, get on my knees, and thank Him for not striking me down dead right then and there.”
“Amen! Amen!”
“Now folks,” Brother Ted continued, “sin’s a terrible thing. For every sin committed, we should have our skin flayed, eyes poked out, and toothpicks shoved up our pee holes. But there’s a way out. In John 14:6, Jesus says ‘I am the way, the Truth, and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through me’!”
“Amen! Amen!”
“So if you’ve ever had impure thoughts, touched yourself in impure ways, those are marks on your soul and you can’t enter the Kingdom of Heaven with any blemish! So wash yourself in the pure blood of Christ our Lord!”
The sermon was more fiery than usual from Brother Ted. Alyssa was moved by his words, but her mind was distracted by events on the other side of the world. When Brother Ted asked for any prayer requests, she stood up. “Yes,” Alyssa said, “please pray for my parents who underwent an ill advised missionary trip to North Korea. They have been taken captive and are being held ransom by the government. Please pray for their safety and for the Lord to provide us with the $10.8 million for their release.”
“Aaaaaaamen,” Brother Ted replied. “Let us all pray…”
***
After the sermon, the church congregation met for brunch. Alyssa was standing alone in her traditional Sunday clothes: a blue floral halter dress with a button up sweater. She typically didn’t like large gatherings, but her brother wanted her to socialize.
Brother Ted noticed Alyssa standing alone. He licked his fingers clean of cake, plate in hand, and proceeded towards her. “It’s good to see you again,” he said to her, “but church is the best place to be in a time like this.”
Brother Ted Kaczynski stood there with a wide grin on his face in his oversized suit. He was in his late forties, overweight, and sweated profusely. “It’s good to see everyone again,” Alyssa replied, “it’s been very difficult lately.”
“Sometimes the Lord tries us in ways we couldn’t possibly understand,” Brother Ted said, “like having our parents kidnapped and held ransom for an obscene amount of money that we couldn’t possibly pay in a thousand years. But God never gives us more than we can handle.”
“So true, Brother Ted.”
“The church may be able to help you with your ransom money,” Ted said as he reached out for Alyssa’s soft, small hand. “Please stop by my office anytime. As you know, men are persecuted in this country…particularly white, Christian men. So my wife left me over completely false domestic abuse allegations and I’ve been missing out on stimulating female conversation. Maybe we can work something out if you know what I mean.”
“Brother Ted,” Alyssa replied, “I don’t think it would be appropriate for a single man or woman to be alone in a room together. I’ll be sure to bring my brother Geoff along for these discussions.”
A look of disappointment came over Brother Ted’s face. “Right you are Ms. Edwards,” he said, “I look forward to speaking with you.”
Geoff waddled up to Alyssa in his khakis and pea green polo. “Is everything alright?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” she said, “I’m just ready to go home.”
Geoff then poked his thick-rimmed bifocals up to his face. “But we haven’t heard the keynote speaker yet,” he replied.
Then she saw him.
He was standing aloof off to the other side of the room. He was about 6’2, muscles bulging through his black, ironed polo. He had the gelled, high and tight hair cut. One could easily get lost in his deep blue eyes. Alyssa tried to not gaze at his body for too long, but how could it be a sin to marvel at such a creation from God?
“Who is that man?” she asked Geoff.
“That’s the keynote speaker.”
Brother Ted stood up and called for everyone’s attention. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “we have a new member to our congregation. He is a decorated war veteran and he has an incredible story. Please welcome John Cannon.”
The room applauded and John addressed the room. “Thank you everyone,” he began. Alyssa was taken with his deep and magnetic voice. “Brother Ted wanted me to tell you about my experience in Iraq, and well…” John stammered for a bit. “There’s really not much to tell. As a former Satan worshiper, I knew the power of the devil. But I never knew the Grace of God. So while I was in the US Army Special Forces, our convoy was attacked. All of my comrades were killed and I was the lone survivor. Suddenly I heard a voice in my head. ‘God will provide’ it said. And there in front of me was a flame thrower, a grenade belt, and an M29 Light Machine Gun. So I single-handedly torched the attacking force, killing everyone involved, then marched to the closest village and raised it to the ground, killing men, women, and children. I thought I was going to be court martialed and tried for war crimes, but to avoid the media fallout from such a massacre, I was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about killing an entire Iraqi village, but through the Grace of God and salvation through Christ Jesus, all is forgiven. But my therapist tells me that it isn’t a miracle that I found a flame thrower, grenades, and a machine gun…that those things are standard equipment with the Special Forces. They want to deny the existence of God. They also tell me that I have acute ‘PTSD’ and undiagnosed schizophrenia…and I shouldn’t carry around a Glock 19…”
John then pulled out the Glock and began waving in front of the audience. “But they can’t tell me what to do. God gave us the 2nd Amendment. And if they want to take away that right, they’re gonna face the wrath of God…and this Glock 19!”
The congregation gave him a round of applause.
Alyssa knew right then and there.. She had to know this man.
