Fiction: I can make your heart beat short
October 16, 2002This is just one part in a series of character and story development I wrote sometime before 2002. These sorts of things are really “for eyes only,” meaning: not for public release. But since I’m now all about full disclosure — and this thing clearly went nowhere — it’s included here “for enjoyment only.”
Now, before I begin telling this story of mine, you’ve got to understand that I’m god’s lonely man. It’s like this big rumbling cloud of loneliness follows me around everywhere I go. It’s a funny story really, how it came to be this way. See, everyone: it’s almost like the man made a mistake with Jesus. As the story goes, or so I’m told, this Jesus died to save all of mankind from their own sins. We’ll, that’s where god fucked up. It was like he was pressed for time, so he overlooked a few sins here and there. Missed a few. As with any rush job, these tiny little oversights began to work their way out of the woodwork, you know, so to speak. As best I can figure, the big guy decided to clean up the mess he made by appointing me head custodian. Yeah, that’s right. One day I was walking down the street headed in the general direction to meet my soon to be ex-girlfriend for some coffee, when the next thing I know, I was recruited for this distinguished position.
You know, I’d like to think of myself as a real slick guy. A real hero, you know. But I just can’t shake the feeling that I’m lacking something. Something big too. Something that everyone else around me seems to grab from the air with an effortless arrogance. You know, I’m really fed up and inclined to say: “Fuck ‘em all.” But I know, I know. It’s not their fault that I’m missing pieces. Yeah, yeah, but Jesus Christ, It’s just not a fair thing for me.