It was now Friday morning and I needed to be at work at some time around noon. I got back to my yellow home at ten forty-five AM. I opened the door, walked inside and went straight for the living room. I sat down on the couch and put my head in my hands. I kept running through my mind whether or not I was actually going to make in to work at all today. My head was aching but was not feeling as bad as my stomach was. I wondered if I could just go to sleep and forget the day, wake up tomorrow and just act like nothing was different, but I knew that I didn’t have that luxury.
“It was my birthday yesterday. Fuck them, let me have today for myself.” I thought out loud as I grabbed my cell phone and called my boss.
“Barry,” that was my boss’s name. “It was my birthday yesterday. (pause) Yeah I found out last night. I kind of got a little banged up. There’s no chance in hell I can make it in today. (pause) Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow.” I hung up the phone and lay down on the couch. I grabbed the remote control for the television and hit the power button.
I remembered when I could spend hours in front of a television set without watching anything in particular. I simply switched the channels repeatedly, every once in a while; I’d pause if there was an image that caught my attention. Usually, it was something bizarre or sexy. I used to love all the science and history channels, but after a while I grew tired of the same documentaries on Hitler, UFO’s and the Free Masons. So instead, I’d search for things that pissed me off. I’d stop on all the programs that completely baffled me to acknowledge why they even existed. Amongst my favorites were the shop-at-home channels, the depressing stories channels and the political channels. But there was a show in particular that I could not stop watching. It was so utterly ridiculous to me that I just couldn’t keep myself from watching it. The show was called, “Our Savior” starring the Reverend Bill Bakerson.
Over the past year there was a great change in America. The power of television had been observed by all the puritanical and oppressed majority voters in the country; and they decided that it was time for them to censor all, for the sake of the children. I agreed with them; how else could they expect for their children to grow up to be just like them, if they were constantly bombarded with different points of views and ideas? They blocked out everything that I enjoyed watching. There were no more hot Spanish girls dancing on television Sunday mornings. Only “Our Savior”.
It was a tele-evangelical program based upon the basis that the literal translation of the words of Jesus Christ within the Bible allows people to wash away their sins or worries by sending the Rev. Bill Bakerson and his church, “The Church of Immaculate Assumptions”, as much money as they couldn’t afford. Luckily for most people, The Church of Immaculate Assumptions also took all forms of credit cards, personal checks, traveler’s checks, money orders, first-born children, and young girl’s panties.
So I turned to the holy channel and I listened to what the Reverend had to say.
“Oh Lord! Oh Lord! There are so many things in this world that we worry about. We worry about our jobs, our children, our health. These are the things of our daily lives, the very things that test us and test our faith! But, we need to be strong Lord! We need to be strong! The words in this book are strong! They are strong because they are your words Lord! Amen Lord, Amen! Yes there are problems down here on earth Lord, but only through you can we find an answer!”
“Now I know all you out there think that money is the answer. ‘If only I had more money’ you might say to yourself. You might get on a knee and look up to our Lord and pray, ‘Dear Lord, I need more money to feed my children, to pay my rent, the bills are collecting and I don’t know what to do Lord!’”
“Well, let me remind you all a little something, Luke 13:16 says ‘No servant can serve two masters. Either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and Money.’ Amen, Amen.
Money is not your master only God is and if he brings you these problems, you need to see them as blessings! God is showing you he cares so much about you that he is teaching you personally. Like Jesus Christ was nailed to that cross, you too were chosen by God to carry a burden, because you are a child of God.”
“We here at the Church of Immaculate Assumptions are here to help spread the words of God, because it is our duty as the children of God to do so, it’s what he wants from us as is told by the only truth we know within these pages! We only have one master and we must do his bidding by sacrificing. I know you’ve got problems at home; I know you need to pay the bills! But the entrance into God’s home is not free! Oh no! Jesus gave his life! He suffered and died for all of our sins and you’re going to ask the Lord to make your life better?! He has been making your life better ever since he entered your hearts and your souls. You will be repaid in the Kingdom of Heaven with God’s grace for all of eternity.”
“So help us spread the word through out the entire world. Help us any way you can. We have operator’s standing by, just call the number at the bottom of the screen or wait until the end of the show and we’ll give you a mailing address for those of you who’d like to send us your contributions towards the Lord’s word. Remember that the Lord, is the ultimate Land Lord and his rent must be paid first!”
“Now, I know you all will make the right decision or else answer to God at a later date. Now there are others of you out there that have a different lesson to learn from God. You don’t have to worry about money. You don’t have to worry about paying your bills, or your rent. I see America getting fatter, I see all these nice cars parked outside in the parking lot. You are all dressed very nicely here today. I’m not saying that you shouldn’t care about what you look like. The Lord wants his people to look good, but he also wants them to be good. And your overabundance is his way of testing you all.”
“Matthew 6:19-21: ‘Do not save riches for yourselves here on earth, where moths and rust destroy, and robbers break in and steal. Instead, save riches for yourselves in heaven, where moths and rust cannot destroy, and robbers cannot break in and steal. For your heart will always be where your riches are.’ Do you understand this? All these things you buy are of no good to you or the Lord. He wants you and your success to help spread his words. He has chosen you to be givers, not hoarders of all that is unnecessary. Remember God sees all and will judge you accordingly. The more you give, the more God knows that you really understand his work and the more likely that he will judge you and bless you with his company.”
“God Bless you all and Amen.”
“Asshole.” I hoped he heard me say that through the television. It was the number one rated show in the country.
I changed the channel. I surfed from station to station finally stopping at one of my least favorite full-time “news” channels. I hated the news because I couldn’t understand how the things that were shown on it actually became reality. I read history books in school and then I read other books that disputed the ones from school and were a lot more depressing than the glorious stories I had learned through out my many years in the public education system. I wondered how they never mentioned my father’s people despite the fact that they had been in this country way before those who wrote the history books had arrived. I didn’t expect them to document their entire history, but at least a more realistic view on what might have happened to them.
I doubted many things and because of this I had very little trust for any one other than myself. Religion baffled me and so did politics. A young child asks “why?” at an early age and is then quickly encouraged to “keep quiet”. I saw this as the most horrendous event that can occur to any person within their entire lifetime. That is when their quest for knowledge and understanding is blocked by a harsh and cruel world that simply tells the child to “keep quiet”. Why should they be quiet? Why can’t they ask “why”? Shouldn’t they be allowed to know? Shouldn’t everyone know why? I’m sorry, I just can’t stop asking “why?”
People always say, “We’re living through difficult times.”
“No shit.” I’d say then ask them. “When has there not been a difficult time? There has always been a war somewhere on the earth, not a year has gone by without a murder, a death, a robbery, an accident, disease, famine, drought, and just plain atrocities created by humans upon other human beings. So you tell me. When has there not been a difficult time?”
I knew to ask this question, because I had asked this question to myself in the past and sought through the pages of all written history for a moment in time where there were no difficulties placed upon man kind. I was unsuccessful. There was never such a time. So I searched more to try to find out why? Why is it that man is this way? Why are we here? Why is there no peace?
The President of the United States was on television again. He was a simple man. That worried me a lot. “Why?” I asked. “How could such a powerful and great country with all the resources in the world choose such an inept human to be its leader?” I needed an answer to this question, so I did what I thought I should do in order to find out. I talked to them. I talked to people, to all types of people. I enjoy it and I have become pretty good at it. Every person is different and should be treated differently depending on the reaction that you want to get from them. I’d found out a while ago that I was good at this.
There was this one time that I found myself in a hotel in South Beach, Miami. It was a beautiful hotel in the Art Deco section called The Hotel Clinton. On the last day of my stay, as I waited for my cab, I found myself sitting at the pool bar drinking some seven and sevens.
An older man in his fifties sat next to me. The man was wearing a red Speedo, but luckily for me, he had wrapped himself up in a towel. I had made friends with all the bartenders at the hotel, so at the time I was bullshitting with Pavel, a young polish immigrant who miraculously figured out that it was much nicer to be a bartender at a hotel in Miami than doing construction back in Poland.
Within a matter of seconds, a conversation had sparked up between the man with the Red Speedo, who also happened to have extremely and very unnaturally white teeth, and me.
The man was down there on business; he was a property investor. Coincidentally, he also happened to be from New Jersey. The conversation that developed between us was very lop-sided and as a result it opened my eyes to something completely new. I had never before realized that some people are completely oblivious to what is really going on. I assumed that people just didn’t care, but on that day with that man, I came to realize that some people haven’t got any fucking clue.
So I talked to the man and had more drinks with him. I didn’t mind; I wasn’t paying. He spilled out his entire life to me. He told me about his divorce with his wife. How at the age of fifty, this man was banging a hot Brazilian chick and trying ecstasy for the first time and he had a great idea to ask for my opinion. He asked me. “Do you think she just wanted me because of my money?”
“Well fuck yeah,” I lifted my drink up as if making a toast. “But who gives a fuck? You got to do ecstasy and bang a hot Brazilian broad and you’re fucking ugly. You should be proud of yourself. Of course she only banged you for your money.” This didn’t make this man clueless, but it did make him human and stupid for not realizing it. The man continued to talk to me, telling me more stories.
“I never ride the subway in New York City, you can get mugged there.” The man told me.
“I always ride the subway. I’ve actually slept there some nights.” Which is true, I’ve passed out on trains and subway terminals many times in New York City. I had the tendency to enjoy myself a lot when I got the chance. I couldn’t miss out on an opportunity; I could’ve died anytime. How ironic to have lived that way.
“Aren’t you afraid someone is going to steal your wallet?” The man was actually intrigued and sitting on the edge of his seat.
“Who the fuck is going to steal MY wallet? People usually think that I’m going to steal their wallets.” That is once again a result of my fun-loving ways.
“Well, I usually take my driver. Isn’t it so much better?” The man asked me.
And I actually had to think about this. You see, I didn’t have a driver nor ever had one. I haven’t ever even been in a limousine, but this man simply assumed. Which was surprising to me because I’m a very low-maintenance type of guy, especially while on vacation. I hadn’t shaved for weeks and wore things that were comfortable, to say the least. My pants were pretty worn out, but not as bad as my sneakers; at least my shirt was nice and clean. It read, “South Beach” and had a golden sun in the background. Unfortunately, I spilled some seven and seven on it. I didn’t care; I was on vacation.
I realized that this man was clueless. He didn’t understand that a normal person couldn’t possibly have a driver. He also hadn’t said it maliciously, as if to rub in his glorious luxuries in my face. He just said it. I had to answer him and give him the honesty that he deserved.
“Well, yeah I guess having a driver would be a lot better. But, I take the subway and I’m never afraid of getting mugged. I have nothing for them to steal.”
The conversation continued.
Eventually, the man began to speak to me about his children. He talked about his two sons and his wonderful daughter. I listened as the man told me about all the lavish gifts that he’s bought his kids like houses and cars, etc. He told me that I should buy a Porsche or a Ferrari; this way, women will look and just lust over me.
“I don’t need a car for women to love me. I have charm and rugged good looks and luckily for me, I was also blessed with a ten-inch cock. That’s why I don’t need to wear red Speedos.” I told him as I ordered another drink on the man’s tab. The whiskey was obviously making me delusional and prone to hyperbole.
The man told me how he worried for his kids. How they were only making ninety thousand dollars. So he felt bad and bought his son a Porsche 911 and that his son didn’t want it, but wanted a BMW M3 instead. The rest of what he had to say didn’t matter, because it didn’t matter to me then and it doesn’t matter to me now.
But then, the man said this, “My oldest son, I think he only wants my money, my daughter is a saint, but my youngest son; he’s the sweetest. He looks out for me.”
“That’s because he’s smarter than you. He wants your money. They all want your money. The only problem is that the oldest boy probably turned out like his mother and that’s why you hate him. Your daughter is probably like you and just as clueless. But your youngest boy, he’s smarter than you and you haven’t realized it.”
Whiskey honesty.
“You think so?” The man had begun to get emotional. Most likely it was the booze, but the man actually looked like he was thinking about what I had just told him. I noticed. I had grown angry a long time before the man sobbed for his kids and their perfectly healthy salaries. I looked over to Pavel and then looked back at the man and began to speak.
“I make thirty thousand dollars a year. I paid for this vacation because I needed one. I earned everything that I have.” I looked over to the bartender, Pavel. “Pavel, when you came over to this country from Poland, how much money did you have? “
Pavel was a little timid to answer at first, but because he thought that the man who I was talking to was an asshole, opened up and answered, “I sold everything, I got on a plane with five hundred dollars and I got a job. I had nothing. For months, all I had was a small blue lamp and my bed. My clothes had to stay in my suit cases.”
“Would you rather be back in Poland?” I asked him
“Fuck no.” He answered happily.
Just then, the bellhop came to tell me that my taxi had arrived. I stood up and said goodbye. I was happy because I knew that I had helped that man. I knew that man learned something that day, because I made him feel like shit. I was also happy because I made a young Polish immigrant’s day, perhaps maybe even his week.
I really enjoyed making people, who deserved to feel like shit, manifest their destinies. “Why not?” I asked. I figured I was doing the world a service, it’s one of the reasons why God chose me.
So I sat there, watching the news and laid down on my back. I closed my eyes and started to drift away. Eventually, I went out for the count. I had been dreaming about marshmallow clouds and talking to chipmunks with huge perky tits, but was interrupted. I saw Bill Bakerson enter my dream and he mumbled a lot of nonsense that I couldn’t decipher. Bakerson was standing under an olive tree talking out loud, as if to a crowd. Then a second voice was heard. It was a familiar one and in the dream another person appeared next Bakerson. It was the United States President, President Beer. Yes, the president’s name was Beer, George Beer. His campaign slogan was, “Somebody you can have a Beer with.” People ate that shit up.
This was too much for me to handle and woke up. I immediately realized that I could still hear the voices. This made my heart race a little bit and then I looked over to the television. There they were, standing next to each other, under an olive tree, President Beer, Bill Bakerson and a token Muslim and Jew. Apparently, Bakerson had gone to the Middle East and converted all the Muslims and Jews to Christianity. They showed a video of Bakerson performing massive miracles in the West Bank. He turned the desserts into lush lands and it was spreading. The miracles would extent into India, China and the rest of the world. Bakerson had brought world peace in four days.
I burped up something nasty into my mouth. I swallowed it back down.
President Beer announced that their would be a celebration to be held for Reverend Bakerson in Central Park in Manhattan on Sunday.
I laid my head back down and tried to fall asleep but the world was spinning around too much. I stood up and walked to the bathroom. I turned the bathroom sink’s faucet on and dipped my hands into the cool water. I lifted the water to my face and then dipped my head down into the cool stream. The momentary relief was disrupted by another sudden urge to be sick. I didn’t budge, I figured the sink was a good enough place to be sick in, but soon my legs began to feel a bit weak and I felt the sudden urge to drop to my knees. Fortunately for me, the toilet was clean; Pepé was a very clean man.
I knelt there with my cheek on the toilet; the cold porcelain brought my nausea to a simmer, my hand hovered too close to the water, my fingers dipped down on occasion. I cursed the man who created mescal, but I really knew why I was feeling ill. Eventually the sickness subsided without having to convulse until I puked the bile and saliva that filled my fragile belly. I stood up and went into my kitchen were I grabbed a cold glass of water.
“Food,” I thought to myself. “I need food.”
I went through my refrigerator and cabinets but realized that I had nothing to eat. I decided to go to the Burger King, only a few blocks away. I got myself together and headed out the door. “One foot in front of the other and avoid any dog shit that might be lying around.” I needed to remind myself to stay sharp; God knows you shouldn’t be caught sleeping
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