Another Untitled

[Tyler Durden]

Hey, for some reason the things I am trying to say come out through stories which are pretty disturbing and offensive, but either way I like to get feedback on my work. Please know that I'm not trying to offend anyone when I write in the head of this character. If you are offended well, than feel free to send me hate mail and I'll apologize. Thanx.


The guard behind me pushes me into the white walled room that is decorated with crucifixes and pictures of saints and virgins that may or may not have existed. There are wooden chairs with cotton stitched pillow padding on the seat and back brace which sit in front of a matching wooden desk. Behind the desk is a large wooden cabinet where the Warden?s pet priest stands with his back towards me. The guard sits me down in one of the wooden chairs. I sit carefully so as not to crush my hands which have been chained behind my back to restrain me. The Guard bolts my feet to the steel restraints, which have been grafted to the floor. I look down at the orange jumpsuit pants until his holiness is good and ready to acknowledge my sin-stained existence.
He turns around and I briefly catch a glimpse of a stack of different bibles and religious books. He closes the cabinet. He doesn?t bother looking into my eyes until he is seated behind his desk. I?m used to that. Most people try to avoid looking into my eyes. He opens his bible and turns the pages until he finds the one he is looking for. He clears his throat. He says:

??And he who is not written in the book of life was cast into the lake of fire. Do you know that scripture, my son??

I nod.

?Revelation 25:14?, he continues. ?What does that mean to you?

Nothing, I say.

He puts his hands on top of the desk and closes his book. He removes his rosary beads and places them on top of the leather-covered bible. He?s obviously overestimated my enthusiasm.

?Well it should?, he says. ?The Lord is your shepherd. Without him you will be lost?damned at the time of the rapture. I?ve read about your crimes numerous times. And while they are horrific, they are ones the Lord will forgive. As long as you accept Jesus as your savior and follow his Ten Commandments.?

I look down at my orange knees and ignore what he says. My mother used to scold me this way. To keep from looking into my eyes she would tell me to look at my knees while she told me how I was nothing. How my father abandoned us because I was born. That I was a curse on her. A burden she could never shed. I stare at my knees until he says something that interests me.

??Do you want that? Is your choice to burn forever in the fires of hell??

I look up at him and open my eyes wide to intimidate him. My eyes are albino. They have no pigment. When you look at them all you can see is white, and a small black dots that are my pupils. When I open my eyes wide my pupils shrink or implode, rather. They reduce themselves to the point where people shrink back terrified. My eyes make me they?re childhood boogey man. The monster under they?re bed. This works every time. I say,

?May I ask a question, Father??

He looks at me. His eyebrows are arched into a bridge on his forehead. They?re might be sweat there but that could just be the florescent light reflecting off of his bald head. He nods slowly.

?Is God omnipotent?? I ask.

?Yes?, he nods emphatically. God knows everything, all of our hearts, since the beginning.?

?I see?, I whisper. ?So than I would be correct in thinking that God knows exactly which of us are going to hell and which one of us are going to heaven??

?Yes, you are.? He wipes his brow. I was right, it was sweat. ?But, you still have a choice to make.?

?The choice is not important. If God knows all than, if he truly knows our hearts, than he knows exactly what choice we will make. He knows exactly where we will end up in the end. He knew before he even thought about thinking about creating the Earth. Am I right, Father??

?Yes? He replies.

?So than its fair to say that God created most of us for the specific purpose of being damned to hell.?

He frowns violently shaking his head.

?Then why create us at all??

He looks at the guard. He whispers, ?I don?t? know?.

?Yes you do. You?ve always known, you just haven?t acknowledged it.?

?What??

I lean forward and squint my eyes. When I do this, my pupils expand to the point where it looks as if they have possessed my entire eyeball. As if all of the purity has been overtaken by the darkness. This looks especially terrifying. And even more so when I am very close. I say:

?God hates us. Passionately. If he loved us, if he was a being of pure love and mercy, he would?ve ceased creation before it started to spare us, his children of the pain. But this isn?t the case, is it, Father? God is sitting waiting for the day when he will be able to set us ablaze and watch us scream in agony. Why else would hell exist? Why else would our lives on Earth be so tedious and tormenting? God loves to watch us suffer, otherwise he would make it so we wouldn?t.?

I laugh softly.

?Funny, God loves to watch suffering. Would you say that makes me sort of like God??

He sits back in his chair begging his mind to think of something to counter my revelation. His eyes desperately twitch, searching for a place to hide from my gaze. This never works. He looks up at the guard and nods at the door. The guard unshackles my feet from the floor and tells me to stand up. I lean over the desk and smile so hard that the muscles in my mouth sting. I lean over his rosary beads, which rest on his bible and slam my face down on the wooden desk as hard as I possibly can. Blood spills out over my bottom teeth and splashes down on the book and all over the now chipped and cracked desk. The guard pulls me back vigorously and throws me to the floor. I strike the ground landing on my shoulder which I am sure has been dislocated. The pain subsides quickly, and as the guard drags me out of the door I squint at the Priest who cowers against the white wall behind his desk. The blood pours down my chin and I feel it trickling down my neck.

After I have been beaten to the point where my restraints are just redundant I wake up in my cell. I am facing the wall I?ve scratched the names of my victims on. The list goes from one side of the wall to the other. It is my work of art. I roll myself over to find the Priest standing silhouetted against the light of the warden?s office. All the other lights are off. It must be lights out.

The Priest?s facial features are indistinguishable but I know its him. He is trembling, probably crying. He says:

?I don?t worship a creature like you. You are a monster, a savage beast that took the lives of innocent people by torturing them to death. My God is nothing like you.?

I spit blood that has been sitting in my mouth for hours onto the cold concrete. I stare at it for a second and look up at him squinting not to scare him but to shield my eyes from the light.

?Your God has killed innocent children in Egypt. Drowned people he created to betray him. And has promised to burn alive the mistkae he claims to love. I and every man in this prison has taken at least one innocent life. So when your trying desperately to bring us to the light, remember that you are not bringing us to God, we are the closest things to God you will ever lay your eyes on.?

With that the Priest falls to his knees. I don?t know if he is praying or sobbing. But he is no longer obscuring the light of the warden?s office. It beams down into my cell. I close my eyes to keep the light from hurting my eyes. But somehow, it always manages to creep through


------------------
In the near future, you can imagine every big evening will begin hours earlier with you getting sucked on by different appliances, each of them making some part of you bigger for a few hours. The whole evening will then be a race to get naked and accomplish some lovin? before your parts snap back to their original sizes. -Oragami Lips

"Buona femina e mala femmina vuol bastone"- Nietzsche

(Good and bad women want a stick)

[Tyler Durden]

No, this has said what I wanted to say. Thanx Bran.

------------------
In the near future, you can imagine every big evening will begin hours earlier with you getting sucked on by different appliances, each of them making some part of you bigger for a few hours. The whole evening will then be a race to get naked and accomplish some lovin? before your parts snap back to their original sizes. -Oragami Lips

"Buona femina e mala femmina vuol bastone"- Nietzsche

(Good and bad women want a stick)

[Branflakes]

Interesting piece, Tyler. Reads easily. Is it self-contained are do you plan on expanding on this?

------------------
Branflakes, the ninja lesbian milk getter.
The one called "brain".
I walk the path, trying not to get pulled into the weeds.
God never gives us more than we can handle.
"See that star...the one shining brighter than all the others? I know the girl who hung it there."