I respectfully parted ways with my day job today, so I had some free time and I wanted that free time to be spent wisely. When I came across Frank looking distressed as hell, I said, no prob sis, just gave our homegirl Tiffanie a ride yesterday, I guess it’s your come up today. I took him to two Roman Catholic churches. The first one, beautiful, full of art and relics. Frank touched a statue and told me he would be cleaning these items and the space. I told him that’s basically what I did at my art gallery and it was an insightful moment, but there was no opportunity for Frank there. I took some cool pictures and sent one to my mom. She’s a big fan of, surprise, surprise, the Virgin Mary.
Then I took Frank to the second church where I met a man who made me curse him out.
To preface, my writing fit is a neon green beanie I got years ago and a giant jacket I got while simping after Jonguk. Double D, my drone-builder, Tokyo-drifter, mechanical engineer of a neighbor, the one who’s been feeding me since my appetite got quiet and the one who’s come around to my writing abilities and metaphors and make believe words, came up with the phrase “jacketing.” It’s like simping, except you’re not listening to sad music and drinking and moping. You just get a XXL jacket and wear it around because it keeps you warm and you end up looking pretty cool.
So I was minding my business, waiting for Frank outside, when a man came out of the church and started bothering a homeless woman sitting on a bench. She was by herself, cold, confused, and so on. I knew he was an asshole for trying to get her to move because where else are Christians, high and low, supposed to seek shelter when they have none – if not a church?
To get him to go away, I asked him for water. He looked past the woman in front of him, to me, and asked if she wanted water. Like I was translating for her or something.
I said, “Yeah, she could probably use some water, too.”
He went back into his cozy little office and came back with two bottles of water. He handed one to the woman and then he looked at me and said,
“If you want water, you have to come and get it.”
“You’re not going to bring it to me?” I asked.
“If you want water,” he repeated, “you have to come and get it.”
Then he placed it next to the woman on the bench and retreated like a little bitch.
I got up and got the water anyway because a real bitch needs to stay hydrated.
The woman, upset at this point, looked at me and said, “I don’t like you, you’re a bad person.”
I responded, “Pero, me gusta tú.”
And then I went into the church to confirm my suspicions about the man. I watched Frank ask him for work; watched him try to bargain Frank out of his worth; watched him upset Frank the same way he upset the homeless woman.
The asshole, the man, was the Pastor.
Go fucking figure.
I got up from where I was sitting and stomped my ass over. When he saw me coming, he shut the fuck up. He was still scared of me for no reason. Me, the small, Asian American, 25-year-old woman I am. I didn’t like seeing Frank upset, so we dipped, but not before I screamed, “Guess we’re going to Vegas!”
The pastor followed us out, stupefied. And then I cursed him out.
“FUCK YOU ASSHOLE, FUCK YOUR WATER, SO MUCH FOR FUCKING HELPING PEOPLE, BITCH!”
I’m deadass.
We got into the car and I drove us back home. Catch me at a church
never
the fuck
again.
A STOR¥ BY ? 