(1000 words)
(Tré's POV)
June 17th, 2013.
Today my parents forced me to go to church again. I don’t even see why, however, as I’m nineteen and they can’t force me anywhere now, or make me prescribe to one religion. Still, they made me on the chance of losing my internet and text privileges -- both of which I need to talk to Billie Joe with. So I reluctantly went along on what became a fucking nightmare. Too bad…
I wanted to burn the damn church down, and I swear, I almost did. I was tempted as all Hell (hahaha, get it?), that’s for sure, and I felt capable of murder there in those too neat, white, unstained aisles full of the echoing and irritating sound of so called angels singing. I knew -- well, I think we all knew -- that it was a hidden choir singing. Not damn angels. Not damn angels that don’t fucking exist.
I felt so ready to burn in Hell as I listened to them. If this God is so cruel and gives out cruel and unusual, ruled UNCONSTI fucking TUTIONAL punishment for loving people, then I don’t want to go to Heaven and spend eternity with that corrupt son of a bitch.
Today, they happened to be talking about premarital sex and gayness -- both so called sins that I was guilty, very guilty of (through I couldn’t help the sex before marriage thing, since I can’t even get fucking married). I felt like screaming, but I don’t think I could take it without any access to my boyfriend for months, at the very least. So I stayed silent and pretended to be a good little straight virgin Christian boy. Oh my God, don’t you get it? I am Christian! Hahaha…
Oh, yeah, they also sang a song with the repeating background line of “Gloria!” and even though I knew that it was for glory, I couldn’t help but think of my boyfriend and the Class of Thirteen.
These people were the opposite of the Class of Thirteen -- more or less the people yelling out against Billie Joe. Some of these kids I knew from the damn high school. Some of them had been right there as I had launched out and assaulted my then boyfriend to be with my mouth… they were the ones who had been disgusted by it… they were the ones being brainwashed into a corrupt army.
I knew it. They were all being brainwashed and I could do nothing to help them. They were being assimilated into a corrupt and religion ruled army, serving under a broken and discarded and poisoned and corrupt God. I was so angry that these people were being taken into this steaming pile of hatred and martyrdom, thinking it would be for some form of some greater good or some shit like that.
They were hiding their eyes, shielding them from the terrible, terrible truth and the horrid reality. In some sort of a promise of Heaven or something. Some utter bullshit like that, anyway.
Then, they ranted about the Holy Crusade that this damn War on Terror supposedly is. That it was good. They ranted like George W. fucking Bush is the Second Coming of Christ, which they no doubt believed, probably.
Then -- the goddamn nerve of them! -- they made me confess. All of my sins. And so I did.
“Heresy,” I said. “Disbelief in your God, in Jesus fucking Christ.” They jumped at my swearing. I just laughed and continued listing off my many sins. “Homosexuality -- except I can’t see that as a sin, since I was just born this damn way. Drug abuse. Sex before marriage, or fornication, or premarital sex -- but, really, what choice do I have since I can’t get married, not legally, not here, not in the US of fucking America, the glorious country it is.”
“But,” I continued, “my biggest sin of all has to be my gay relationship with Gloria, the leader of the Class of Thirteen. He’s really, really good at fucking, did you know that? That time, you know last night, it was my first time as bottom. I loved it.”
I watched as their eyebrows shot up. “Oh, yes, I loved saying all of that. I just hope, soon, that a fire will burn soon, of all your blasphemy and genocide. That the fires of decay will infiltrate the faith fanatics…”
It sounded like something Billie would write. I was proud, so proud of myself as I promptly walked out of the damn church and went home. I want to share those verses with him and see if he likes them. I think he will -- I mean, stylistically, it’s just like his stuff. It’s dark and opposite.
Like those lines he showed me earlier: “I pledge allegiance to the Underworld. One nation under god here of which I stand alone. A face in the crowd, unsung against the mold. Without a doubt, singled out, the only way I know.”
As soon as I finished writing my diary entry, I looked my watch, hitting light and looking at the black numbers seared onto the green glow. Two ante meridian. I sighed as I closed my diary and flipped my phone open for the first time that day, checking for new messages.
Two from Billie Joe. I frowned and looked at them.
The first one read, “If I lose everything in the fire, I’m sending all my love to you… if I lose everything in the fire… did I ever make it through?” I couldn’t quite get what it meant.
The second was from just a few minutes ago and said, “Class of Thirteen meeting, Friday. Be there or be square.”
I smiled to myself as I marked the date down on my calendar.
Then I flicked off my light and fell asleep, my old diary still open next to me and my cell phone closed but still on in my hand.
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