This is chapter three of my Accelerated Christian Education fan
fiction, which I am very proud of. It is the first ACE fan fiction on
the internet, to my knowledge, and you can find more chapters (thirteen
so far) here on my Deviant Art page, feezlfuzzl, or on the ACE Gay Porn page at the top of this blog.
Pudge went home, greeting his mother briefly as she made dinner, then
headed straight for his room. Lying on his bed, he called Ace, still
confused and reeling from the shock.
"I saw Ronny today," he said.
"Ronny? The only Ronny I know is the guy who used to pick on us as kids."
"Yeah, that guy."
"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that. Where'd you see him?"
"On the side of the freeway. I had a flat tire."
"Okay. And he did too?" Ace asked in confusion.
"No, he stopped to help me."
"What? Ronny?"
"Yes, Ronny."
"Ronny Vain? Ronny Vain helped you?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you call me to help you?"
Pudge was embarrassed to admit that he couldn't change the tire himself. "I didn't have to. Ronny had a spare."
"He gave you his spare tire?"
"Yes--to borrow," Pudge lied. He hope Ace didn't want to go with him to give it back. "He said he would come get it sometime."
"When?"
"I don't know."
"Well, what did he want in return?"
"Nothing. He was just helping me out."
"Huh." Ace was silent for a few seconds."Oh, I get it: He gave you his business card, didn't he?"
"What?"
"He's a mechanic, Pudge. He works over in Sodomburg," Ace explained, distaste in his voice at the last word. "He's trying to drum up business for himself."
"He didn't give me his card, Ace." Pudge was almost a little hurt that Ronny hadn't.
"Oh, well...he must have forgotten."
"Why would he forget, if he only did it for his business?"
"I don't know. Do you think he got saved?" Ace asked, affecting a reverent tone.
"I don't think so. He was wearing a leather jacket."
"Why would he be nice to you if he wasn't a Christian?" Ace asked impatiently. "What did he say when you mentioned the Lord?"
Pudge had no answer for that. "Um...well...I guess I don't remember."
"You
didn't say anything about God to him?" Ace demanded, incredulous.
"Pudge, do you realize that you may be the only Bible he ever reads?"
"I
know," he said lamely, feeling guilty and "convicted" (he had always
hated that word, though he was not supposed to feel guilty when he was
"convicted"). "I was just too shocked to see him," Pudge added.
"That's no excuse, Pudge. You know we are supposed to be ready to give an account at all times for the hope that we have."
Pudge's
brain felt tired at hearing the very familiar bible verse. He didn't
like it, but sometimes he just became weary of hearing the same verses
again. Almost any common bible quotation was enough to make his brain
try to skip over it. He tried very hard to pay attention, because they
were God's own words, but he was still mentally tired, especially in
trying to live up to God's own words.
He pulled himself back to the conversation. "What?"
"We have to give an account, Pudge. For the hope that we have. Haven't you ever seen that verse?"
"Yes, I have. Of course I have. You know I have. But Ace, Ronny didn't ask for an account of my hope."
"But what if he had?"
"Then I would have given him one. You know I would be ready at all times, Ace."
"I'm not so sure. You weren't ready then," Ace shot back confrontationally. It was Ace's way of "holding you accountable."
Pudge
hated when Ace doubted his faithfulness. He had said something once,
and received the "as iron sharpens iron" verse. Pudge's mind glazed over
the memory of that verse.
"Ronny probably would have thrown the tire iron at me if I'd said anything!" Pudge snapped, sitting straight up in bed.
"Well, then, you--" Ace began, then cut himself off abruptly.
Pudge
could read his mind. He knew that though Ace wanted the honor of being
persecuted for his beliefs, he would probably not volunteer willingly or
unnecessarily to take a tire iron to the head. "I know you think I
could have been persecuted for my beliefs, but I don't think that would
have done any good, Ace. Ronny knows what we believe, and he has a
chance to come to our church anytime. He knows he's welcome there, we've
told him before."
"That was years ago, Pudge."
"I know he remembers. And I was wearing one of my Christian t-shirts."
"Which one?"
"'Abreadcrumb & Fish'" Pudge quoted.
"He might not have got it."
"Well,
it doesn't matter, because I'm taking my car to Ronny to be changed,
and I'm going to give him a gospel tract then!" Pudge blurted out. Now
that he said it out loud, he thought it was a brilliant plan. And though
it made it sound as if his car wore a diaper, it also shut Ace up.
"Okay. I'm going with you."
Ace would ruin everything. "I want to do this alone."
"Pudge, it's Sodomburg."
There was that tone again. The nearby town was a den of sin and
corruption because it had several bars and clubs, and the stores were
open on Sundays. It was medium-sized, though bigger than Highland City.
"Christians can't go there alone. It's too tempting. And Jesus said to
go out two by two."
Pudge's heart sank. He felt guilty for just
wanting to be "normal," for once, and Ace would screw everything up.
Ronny would hate him if he brought Ace. And a little part of him just
wanted to be free of everyone's "accountability;" he wanted to relax and
not have to witness, "confess Christ," or prove his devotion among
believers for once.
But he couldn't argue with Scripture. There
was no way to get out of it. "Okay," he said finally. "I'll make an
appointment tomorrow."
"I'll make the appointment for you. I have their number."
"How do you know..."
"They have good prices, and I have to shine the light of Jesus to them," he said defensively. "I'll make your appointment. They know me there."
"Okay," he almost sighed. Pudge wondered if Ace went alone to the mechanic's in Sodomburg. "Good night, Ace."
"Good
night, Pudge." Ace was using his spiritual tone, as if speaking to a
new believer, which Pudge obviously was not. "God bless."
Pudge
took several deep breaths after hanging up. There was an
all-too-familiar feeling in his sternum as though his thymus was
shrinking. He had to get out of the appointment. He knew he shouldn't
care what the world thought of him, but for some reason he cringed when
he thought of being embarrassed in front of Ronny. He shouldn't be
embarrassed by the gospel, but when Ace shared it, he somehow was.
He
had to get out of it. But he couldn't--not without being humiliated in
front of Ace and possibly his whole church. And even going along with
it, he still had to find a way to plausibly give the spare tire "back"
to Ronny, or Ace would know he was lying. He was doomed. Either way, he
was doomed.
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Tuesday, August 18, 2015
Wednesday, August 12, 2015
My Late, Great Aunt's Planet Earth
My favorite great-aunt on my grandfather's side died rather recently. She was my grandfather's last surviving sibling.
I was always amused that her Arkansas accent was just as thick as ever, after decades of living in California. My Papa has pretty much lost his accent after so long, though it depends on the circumstances.
I only saw her when she visited from out of state, maybe once every few years, but I liked her. She was a nice lady.
One thing, though, that I wished I could change about her, for her sake and mine, was her obsession with the End Times. It always inevitably got around to that, when I was around her.
She was such an upbeat, optimistic, energetic person--but curiously, she was convinced that things were going to get worse and worse. Her voice and posture were almost not affected at all as she talked about the things that scared her and wondered aloud what the world was coming to. I don't know if it wasn't "real" to her, or if she was just totally convinced of the imminent Rapture. (I'm not convinced of it, even if the bible is true, since it is only implied in a few verses, and those verses also talk about dead bodies and vultures and such.)
My mom says that she told her not to bother graduating high school, since the Rapture was going to happen any time now anyway. This was in the late eighties. Hers was a world filled with happiness and dreadful omens, doom but not gloom.
And then after solemnly (for her) declaring that things were going to get worse and worse, she easily switched into lighter, happier topics, such as what various relatives were up to, her exercise routine (two miles every morning) or her bedtime schedule ("I go to bed about nine o'clock--first I read my bible, then I go to bed about nine o'clock," she was say proudly.)
Both her and my grandfather are very good at not questioning anything, never seeming to ever have doubts at all. It's just a fact, to them, that God is real and exactly as evangelical Christians believe him to be. In a way, I admire their abilities, since I tried in vain to silence my doubts, but I also think that is a bit unhealthy, in a way. It is not healthy to not question anything (and their worship of authority goes beyond God or church), in my mind, and what if they are merely afraid to question it?
She never said anything homophobic, to my knowledge, so I wasn't really bothered by her beliefs (though hearing her talk about the end times was a bit scary, even for an atheist, though apparently not for her). I didn't really see any reason to tell her of my own doubts, and I thought that would only worry her, and she was only visiting for a while, so I let it slide.
I am also amazed that she apparently did everything "right" in trying to take care of herself, and died before my grandfather, who doesn't seem to do anything beyond what my aunt and grandmother make him do (he does walk with them every morning, I hear, though certainly not two miles, and takes the supplements they give him). She took initiative with her health, and still died before someone who doesn't. She never smoked, to my knowledge, while her brother did, until a few decades ago. She was mostly positive, happy, and upbeat, while my grandfather often feels hopeless about his health and complains of being a lot of pain (though it is getting better lately--hopefully he is feeling better).
Yes, I miss her, and it's too bad that she died, but it doesn't affect me as much as it would if my grandfather passed away.
My mother has said that she didn't think he would be around in five years--ten years ago and more. I seem to know a good many people whose latest visit to the hospital always seems like their last, who seem to have bad health, just barely hanging on, for decades on end. My mom says that my papa has always been old, always told her and her siblings that he was old. It seems now that his health has improved at least a little. Though after what happened to my aunt, I'm a little worried that that's what will kill him...
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I was always amused that her Arkansas accent was just as thick as ever, after decades of living in California. My Papa has pretty much lost his accent after so long, though it depends on the circumstances.
I only saw her when she visited from out of state, maybe once every few years, but I liked her. She was a nice lady.
One thing, though, that I wished I could change about her, for her sake and mine, was her obsession with the End Times. It always inevitably got around to that, when I was around her.
She was such an upbeat, optimistic, energetic person--but curiously, she was convinced that things were going to get worse and worse. Her voice and posture were almost not affected at all as she talked about the things that scared her and wondered aloud what the world was coming to. I don't know if it wasn't "real" to her, or if she was just totally convinced of the imminent Rapture. (I'm not convinced of it, even if the bible is true, since it is only implied in a few verses, and those verses also talk about dead bodies and vultures and such.)
My mom says that she told her not to bother graduating high school, since the Rapture was going to happen any time now anyway. This was in the late eighties. Hers was a world filled with happiness and dreadful omens, doom but not gloom.
And then after solemnly (for her) declaring that things were going to get worse and worse, she easily switched into lighter, happier topics, such as what various relatives were up to, her exercise routine (two miles every morning) or her bedtime schedule ("I go to bed about nine o'clock--first I read my bible, then I go to bed about nine o'clock," she was say proudly.)
Both her and my grandfather are very good at not questioning anything, never seeming to ever have doubts at all. It's just a fact, to them, that God is real and exactly as evangelical Christians believe him to be. In a way, I admire their abilities, since I tried in vain to silence my doubts, but I also think that is a bit unhealthy, in a way. It is not healthy to not question anything (and their worship of authority goes beyond God or church), in my mind, and what if they are merely afraid to question it?
She never said anything homophobic, to my knowledge, so I wasn't really bothered by her beliefs (though hearing her talk about the end times was a bit scary, even for an atheist, though apparently not for her). I didn't really see any reason to tell her of my own doubts, and I thought that would only worry her, and she was only visiting for a while, so I let it slide.
I am also amazed that she apparently did everything "right" in trying to take care of herself, and died before my grandfather, who doesn't seem to do anything beyond what my aunt and grandmother make him do (he does walk with them every morning, I hear, though certainly not two miles, and takes the supplements they give him). She took initiative with her health, and still died before someone who doesn't. She never smoked, to my knowledge, while her brother did, until a few decades ago. She was mostly positive, happy, and upbeat, while my grandfather often feels hopeless about his health and complains of being a lot of pain (though it is getting better lately--hopefully he is feeling better).
Yes, I miss her, and it's too bad that she died, but it doesn't affect me as much as it would if my grandfather passed away.
My mother has said that she didn't think he would be around in five years--ten years ago and more. I seem to know a good many people whose latest visit to the hospital always seems like their last, who seem to have bad health, just barely hanging on, for decades on end. My mom says that my papa has always been old, always told her and her siblings that he was old. It seems now that his health has improved at least a little. Though after what happened to my aunt, I'm a little worried that that's what will kill him...
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
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How Anti-Gay Christians Hurt Their Own Cause
Here are a few of the many ways in which those opposed to homosexuality ensure that others will never listen to them:
1) Drive-By Comments
There was a "drive by" once in the comment section of an article on Freedhearts (a pro-gay Christian blog). The commenter expressed the notion that the bible forbade same-sex relationships (which it doesn't, apparently--here are the Resources on that same site, for clarity), then said that he "wasn't here to argue"--on a site where that notion is VERY debatable, to say the least!
I and many others went round and round with him. I told him that it wasn't fair that he got to express his opinion, while others didn't get to express theirs, hence the "not arguing." That he just wanted us to sit there and take what he was saying as the truth, without listening to our side of things, and that that wasn't right or fair.
He conceded that point, to his credit. I really do believe that he had good intentions, but intentions aren't magical, and he was being unintentionally condescending. He also lost a lot of my respect when he hid behind the "don't look at me, God said it," excuse. I will tackle this excuse later, but basically, he's not going to morally disagree with God (which he very well could do), so he totally IS saying it as well. He also would probably not change his mind even if God told him otherwise.
It's not "clear" that God is against equality or human rights. No one is denying or ignoring what they already know, and no one needs any "Truth" told to them, without the speaker at least listening to their side of things, as well.
2) Double Standards
He also said that it wasn't right to call anti-gay people homophobic, but that it was okay for him to say "abomination," because the bible said it too (he said these two things in the same comment).
If one is not going to agree to a common language, then there is no discussion to be had. About a year ago, I was surprised to find that a prominent Youtuber, who happens to be a Christian, did not like the term "Religion," so I determined not to use words which the other side might find objectionable (on purpose), even if I did believe they were technically accurate.
(By the way, shrimp is also referred as an abomination, along with wearing mixed fibers--I'm sure you've heard that cliche before. Let's at least stick to the New Testament, shall we?)
3) Intentionally Being Offensive
If you compare LGBTQ people to pedophiles or those who practice bestiality, we get offended. The reason we get offended is that you are calling us rapists. How would you feel, if you were called a rapist?
Pedophilia and bestiality are literally forms of rape, since children and animals cannot properly give consent. If you wish to be taken seriously by us, understand that we don't want to be compared to rapists, and don't compare us to rapists.
The reason that we are okay with homosexuality, but not rape (in its many forms), is consent. Consent is our sexual ethic. A consenting adult is not a rape victim. Remember this when engaging with us, and remember that we DO have a sexual ethic, just like you.
(Yes, I do have to say it, because some people don't get it--or just want to be offensive.)
4) Not Listening To Us
Finally, and this is the main offense (from which the other three derive), which is not wanting to listen to us. If you do not wish to listen to us, you cannot expect us to listen to you.
This comes most often, that I have seen, in the form of insisting that our sexual orientation is a "choice." Would you choose this, in the homophobic environment that you might have grown up in, and in a world where your basic rights are controversial, at best, and outright denied, at worst?
To insist that this is a choice is to ignore the thousands, if not millions, of stories, on the internet alone, from those for whom this is not a choice. And these are just the people who chose to share their stories. For every one story you read about, there are literally hundreds of others that are just like it or similar.
No one, absolutely, NO ONE, would choose this. We are kicked out of our homes, beaten, raped, fired from our jobs, sometimes even murdered. No, we didn't choose this. You wouldn't choose this, so why do you think we are choosing it?
We do not choose our sexuality, or who we are. The reason we often choose to act on our sexuality, by finding a partner or spouse, is that we want love, just like you. Maybe you chose to find love, and we do the same. To condemn us for what you have done is not only unequal, but serves to alienate us and does not make us want to listen to you.
Listen to our stories, listen to us, and this will go a long way, even if we do not see eye to eye. (And by the way, thank you for reading this and thereby listening.)
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
Follow or tweet me here: https://twitter.com/atheistjourneys
I also have a Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Atheist-Journeys/1543588489197291?
1) Drive-By Comments
There was a "drive by" once in the comment section of an article on Freedhearts (a pro-gay Christian blog). The commenter expressed the notion that the bible forbade same-sex relationships (which it doesn't, apparently--here are the Resources on that same site, for clarity), then said that he "wasn't here to argue"--on a site where that notion is VERY debatable, to say the least!
I and many others went round and round with him. I told him that it wasn't fair that he got to express his opinion, while others didn't get to express theirs, hence the "not arguing." That he just wanted us to sit there and take what he was saying as the truth, without listening to our side of things, and that that wasn't right or fair.
He conceded that point, to his credit. I really do believe that he had good intentions, but intentions aren't magical, and he was being unintentionally condescending. He also lost a lot of my respect when he hid behind the "don't look at me, God said it," excuse. I will tackle this excuse later, but basically, he's not going to morally disagree with God (which he very well could do), so he totally IS saying it as well. He also would probably not change his mind even if God told him otherwise.
It's not "clear" that God is against equality or human rights. No one is denying or ignoring what they already know, and no one needs any "Truth" told to them, without the speaker at least listening to their side of things, as well.
2) Double Standards
He also said that it wasn't right to call anti-gay people homophobic, but that it was okay for him to say "abomination," because the bible said it too (he said these two things in the same comment).
If one is not going to agree to a common language, then there is no discussion to be had. About a year ago, I was surprised to find that a prominent Youtuber, who happens to be a Christian, did not like the term "Religion," so I determined not to use words which the other side might find objectionable (on purpose), even if I did believe they were technically accurate.
(By the way, shrimp is also referred as an abomination, along with wearing mixed fibers--I'm sure you've heard that cliche before. Let's at least stick to the New Testament, shall we?)
3) Intentionally Being Offensive
If you compare LGBTQ people to pedophiles or those who practice bestiality, we get offended. The reason we get offended is that you are calling us rapists. How would you feel, if you were called a rapist?
Pedophilia and bestiality are literally forms of rape, since children and animals cannot properly give consent. If you wish to be taken seriously by us, understand that we don't want to be compared to rapists, and don't compare us to rapists.
The reason that we are okay with homosexuality, but not rape (in its many forms), is consent. Consent is our sexual ethic. A consenting adult is not a rape victim. Remember this when engaging with us, and remember that we DO have a sexual ethic, just like you.
(Yes, I do have to say it, because some people don't get it--or just want to be offensive.)
4) Not Listening To Us
Finally, and this is the main offense (from which the other three derive), which is not wanting to listen to us. If you do not wish to listen to us, you cannot expect us to listen to you.
This comes most often, that I have seen, in the form of insisting that our sexual orientation is a "choice." Would you choose this, in the homophobic environment that you might have grown up in, and in a world where your basic rights are controversial, at best, and outright denied, at worst?
To insist that this is a choice is to ignore the thousands, if not millions, of stories, on the internet alone, from those for whom this is not a choice. And these are just the people who chose to share their stories. For every one story you read about, there are literally hundreds of others that are just like it or similar.
No one, absolutely, NO ONE, would choose this. We are kicked out of our homes, beaten, raped, fired from our jobs, sometimes even murdered. No, we didn't choose this. You wouldn't choose this, so why do you think we are choosing it?
We do not choose our sexuality, or who we are. The reason we often choose to act on our sexuality, by finding a partner or spouse, is that we want love, just like you. Maybe you chose to find love, and we do the same. To condemn us for what you have done is not only unequal, but serves to alienate us and does not make us want to listen to you.
Listen to our stories, listen to us, and this will go a long way, even if we do not see eye to eye. (And by the way, thank you for reading this and thereby listening.)
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
Follow or tweet me here: https://twitter.com/atheistjourneys
I also have a Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Atheist-Journeys/1543588489197291?
Totally Hetero Pudge And Ronny: Chapter Two
This is the second chapter of my Accelerated Christian Education fan fiction, the first of its kind, that I know of, and I am very proud of it. To see more chapters of it (thirteen so far!), here is my Deviant Art page.
To see the first chapter, go to my Deviant Art Page, or go here.
Ronny breathed a sigh of relief, slumping against the seat as Pudge's car disappeared out of sight up ahead of him. He had not exactly been thrilled to see the kid he had called, with good reason, "Preacher Pudge" behind his back. He had only been surprised that Ace The Asshole and Racer The Brown-noser were not with him. Just like old times, he had covered his dismay at being constantly evangelized with a cocky grin.
The entire time he had helped him, Ronny had been holding his breath, waiting for Pudge to say something about Jesus, who was always the big fat elephant in the room. It was always Jesus/sin/God/bible, in a never-ending loop. The Christian kids had known how much of an ass Ronny was to them, and so did Ronny. But what they didn't realize was how much he had been holding back.
Ronny had not lived in the nice perfect suburbs, he had not had nice things or new, clean clothes. His parents couldn't afford (or perhaps didn't want to bother, he didn't know for sure) to send him to private school, which was religious but better than the underfunded public schools. He would see the other kids in their crisp red-and-blue uniforms, which were rather ugly and out of style (especially the girls' dresses), but they were clean and new, no stains, no rips, no scuffs on their shoes, and the kids all had clean hair. And he couldn't help but notice that he was very different than them. He stood out, at an age when he wanted nothing more than to fit in.
There were other differences too. His parents had not shown him much affection, not nearly as much as he saw other children getting from theirs. His mother liked to yell, sometimes over things he had not even realized he was doing. He was always tense, never knowing if a certain action (or lack of action) would get him in trouble. His dad had slept in his chair a lot. Later Ronny would understand why, when he discovered that other kids' houses were not filled with smelly bottles like his was.
He had not even had a bike, for many years.
Once, when he was very young, he had tried to ride Ace's bike when Ace wasn't even using it, but even from the swings, Ace had seen it and thrown a fit. Even Ace's father had put a stop to it, and Ronny was accused of being a thief, and told it was typical of him because he didn't love Jesus. He had learned something that day, about what he was, what these perfect Christian people saw him as: He was a bad kid.
He wasn't meant to have nice things. He wasn't meant to have a perfect family or attention and praise from adults. They didn't want him to have any of these things. He didn't have them, because he was bad. Somehow, some way, he had done something so horrible that he didn't deserve any of this. Why else would the other children have everything, and not him?
And if God was so good, according to them, why did he make Ronny different from them? Why had he made Ronny bad?
When he got old enough, he recognized the hypocrisy for what it was. These clean, smiling kids with perfect lives and perfect families, they were the same ones telling him that if he gave his heart to God, everything would be all right.
What did they know about his situation? What did they know about how to make everything all right?
They knew nothing. One thing he didn't tell them, one thing he had never told anyone, was that he had given his heart to God once. He had prayed, in his innocence, that God would make him good so that Mommy would stop yelling at him and getting mad, and Daddy would stop falling asleep and pay attention to him, like he had seen other parents behave with their children.
Though he tried to be good and obedient, his mother always found other faults that he hadn't known about. When he had tentatively approached his father with a football, he had been roared at for blocking the TV. Then when Daddy started yelling, Mommy also started yelling, and he had gotten spanked, his mother cruelly yanking him up off the ground and slapping his backside three or four times.
God hadn't changed Mommy or Daddy. Ronny must still have been bad. Discouraged, he had stopped praying after a week or two.
He hadn't told anyone of this, knowing his failure as a Christian. He had never been a "real" Christian, like they said. He couldn't have been, though he had tried.
When he grew a little older, they said he had rejected God. No, God had apparently rejected him--if there even was a god. He sometimes had his doubts.
They said Jesus would solve all of his problems. But how the hell would they know? They had never had any problems. Not the kind Ronny had. The biggest problem they ever had was trying to love someone like Ronny. He knew because they told him, or mentioned it when he was around. And he was supposed to be grateful for whatever love they did show to him.
They didn't even see how condescending they were acting towards him. He was a stupid child, a villain, and a fool to them. He wasn't just another kid--like he wanted to be.
So of course he had "rejected" their God. If God was like them, why should he even care to have a relationship with him? Was God as condescending as his followers? Was this the same God who had given him the shaft in life, and now wanted him to be grateful that he wouldn't fuck Ronny over even harder, for all eternity? Was that the kind of "relationship" God had wanted with him?
So of course he had scoffed at their "good news." Of course he had done whatever he could to hurt them as much as they had hurt him. It maybe wasn't acceptable, he realized that now, but at the time it seemed like all he had, his only option. And of course, when Ace asked if he could "introduce" Ronny to his "best friend," Jesus, Ronny had shot him down.
"Nope!" he had smirked, quite proud of himself. Ace had been a tool, and he was now put in his place.
And so, it was all he could do not to make a face at Pudge's Christian "designer" knockoff t-shirt ("Abreadcrumb & Fish," arguably the worst choice for an overweight person). And it had been all he could do to keep a cool, cocky demeanor, like old times. He would change the tire because it was the right thing to do (he had at least matured somewhat, he thought), but seeing Pudge again had almost made him nauseous.
It was really too bad, because he suspected that, when he wasn't feeling pressured to spout Jesus nonsense at him (in spite of all of Ronny's protests, which apparently brooked no compassion even for painful memories), Pudge was probably a halfway decent guy.
But as it was, Ronny had noticed that Pudge didn't even look at him even as he had helped him. It was just like old times.
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To see the first chapter, go to my Deviant Art Page, or go here.
Ronny breathed a sigh of relief, slumping against the seat as Pudge's car disappeared out of sight up ahead of him. He had not exactly been thrilled to see the kid he had called, with good reason, "Preacher Pudge" behind his back. He had only been surprised that Ace The Asshole and Racer The Brown-noser were not with him. Just like old times, he had covered his dismay at being constantly evangelized with a cocky grin.
The entire time he had helped him, Ronny had been holding his breath, waiting for Pudge to say something about Jesus, who was always the big fat elephant in the room. It was always Jesus/sin/God/bible, in a never-ending loop. The Christian kids had known how much of an ass Ronny was to them, and so did Ronny. But what they didn't realize was how much he had been holding back.
Ronny had not lived in the nice perfect suburbs, he had not had nice things or new, clean clothes. His parents couldn't afford (or perhaps didn't want to bother, he didn't know for sure) to send him to private school, which was religious but better than the underfunded public schools. He would see the other kids in their crisp red-and-blue uniforms, which were rather ugly and out of style (especially the girls' dresses), but they were clean and new, no stains, no rips, no scuffs on their shoes, and the kids all had clean hair. And he couldn't help but notice that he was very different than them. He stood out, at an age when he wanted nothing more than to fit in.
There were other differences too. His parents had not shown him much affection, not nearly as much as he saw other children getting from theirs. His mother liked to yell, sometimes over things he had not even realized he was doing. He was always tense, never knowing if a certain action (or lack of action) would get him in trouble. His dad had slept in his chair a lot. Later Ronny would understand why, when he discovered that other kids' houses were not filled with smelly bottles like his was.
He had not even had a bike, for many years.
Once, when he was very young, he had tried to ride Ace's bike when Ace wasn't even using it, but even from the swings, Ace had seen it and thrown a fit. Even Ace's father had put a stop to it, and Ronny was accused of being a thief, and told it was typical of him because he didn't love Jesus. He had learned something that day, about what he was, what these perfect Christian people saw him as: He was a bad kid.
He wasn't meant to have nice things. He wasn't meant to have a perfect family or attention and praise from adults. They didn't want him to have any of these things. He didn't have them, because he was bad. Somehow, some way, he had done something so horrible that he didn't deserve any of this. Why else would the other children have everything, and not him?
And if God was so good, according to them, why did he make Ronny different from them? Why had he made Ronny bad?
When he got old enough, he recognized the hypocrisy for what it was. These clean, smiling kids with perfect lives and perfect families, they were the same ones telling him that if he gave his heart to God, everything would be all right.
What did they know about his situation? What did they know about how to make everything all right?
They knew nothing. One thing he didn't tell them, one thing he had never told anyone, was that he had given his heart to God once. He had prayed, in his innocence, that God would make him good so that Mommy would stop yelling at him and getting mad, and Daddy would stop falling asleep and pay attention to him, like he had seen other parents behave with their children.
Though he tried to be good and obedient, his mother always found other faults that he hadn't known about. When he had tentatively approached his father with a football, he had been roared at for blocking the TV. Then when Daddy started yelling, Mommy also started yelling, and he had gotten spanked, his mother cruelly yanking him up off the ground and slapping his backside three or four times.
God hadn't changed Mommy or Daddy. Ronny must still have been bad. Discouraged, he had stopped praying after a week or two.
He hadn't told anyone of this, knowing his failure as a Christian. He had never been a "real" Christian, like they said. He couldn't have been, though he had tried.
When he grew a little older, they said he had rejected God. No, God had apparently rejected him--if there even was a god. He sometimes had his doubts.
They said Jesus would solve all of his problems. But how the hell would they know? They had never had any problems. Not the kind Ronny had. The biggest problem they ever had was trying to love someone like Ronny. He knew because they told him, or mentioned it when he was around. And he was supposed to be grateful for whatever love they did show to him.
They didn't even see how condescending they were acting towards him. He was a stupid child, a villain, and a fool to them. He wasn't just another kid--like he wanted to be.
So of course he had "rejected" their God. If God was like them, why should he even care to have a relationship with him? Was God as condescending as his followers? Was this the same God who had given him the shaft in life, and now wanted him to be grateful that he wouldn't fuck Ronny over even harder, for all eternity? Was that the kind of "relationship" God had wanted with him?
So of course he had scoffed at their "good news." Of course he had done whatever he could to hurt them as much as they had hurt him. It maybe wasn't acceptable, he realized that now, but at the time it seemed like all he had, his only option. And of course, when Ace asked if he could "introduce" Ronny to his "best friend," Jesus, Ronny had shot him down.
"Nope!" he had smirked, quite proud of himself. Ace had been a tool, and he was now put in his place.
And so, it was all he could do not to make a face at Pudge's Christian "designer" knockoff t-shirt ("Abreadcrumb & Fish," arguably the worst choice for an overweight person). And it had been all he could do to keep a cool, cocky demeanor, like old times. He would change the tire because it was the right thing to do (he had at least matured somewhat, he thought), but seeing Pudge again had almost made him nauseous.
It was really too bad, because he suspected that, when he wasn't feeling pressured to spout Jesus nonsense at him (in spite of all of Ronny's protests, which apparently brooked no compassion even for painful memories), Pudge was probably a halfway decent guy.
But as it was, Ronny had noticed that Pudge didn't even look at him even as he had helped him. It was just like old times.
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Christians: White Witches By Another Name
A few weeks ago, I found a copy of the first Harry Potter book in a thrift shop, and was thrilled to buy it. I had been afraid to read Harry Potter when it first became popular and I became aware of it, since I was attending a "mainstream" evangelical Christian school at the time and was taught that it was demonic. My third-grade teacher told us a horror story about a man in her church who wanted to know what it was about, and so started reading it, and...
"He became addicted to it!" she related in a horrified, conspiratorial whisper.
I realize now that what happened was that he started reading them in order to warn others about them, because he thought they were demonic, and then ended up changing his mind because he liked them. But at the time, I imagined spiritual shackles, bondage to sin, and his relationship with God suffering, taking a back seat, and even being severed. (Funny how I didn't hear about the "once saved, always saved" doctrine in the early 2000s, nearly as much as I do now...)
My grandmother on my father's side (the more liberal side of the family) asked my parents if she could buy Harry Potter books for me. My parents asked me if I wanted to read them. I said no. My mother thought that they were likely demonic, but she let me have the choice, which I am grateful for today. She trusted me to make my own decisions on spiritual matters, even at ten and eleven years old. But I couldn't fathom reading something that I thought my parents might disapprove of, much less something that I thought would jeopardize my relationship with God and pull me into worshiping Satan and committing witchcraft. I worried and prayed for my grandmother's soul (and this was only one reason why, unfortunately for me and my relationship to her).
But then a decade and a half later, I found myself an agnostic atheist, staring at a paperback copy of Harry Potter And The Sorcerer's Stone, for only twenty-five cents. I was surprised that the Catholic-owned charity shop, which gave away all their bibles for free, would sell it. I was sure that they wouldn't sell it in Harry Potter's heyday, probably would simply throw it in the trash, but as far as I know, all of the volunteers there are elderly, and someone may have forgotten how "bad" it was.
So I bought it, very eager to see what all the fuss was about, and I loved it. It was easier to read than most fantasy books I had come across, because it talked plainly of everyday life in our world (at first), with much whimsy and many keen observations about human behavior.
(I am onto the second book in the series, Harry Potter And The Chamber of Secrets, now. I guess I'm addicted, though my third-grade teacher wouldn't think much of my relationship to God today--though I don't think I would have a bad relationship to him or her, if God exists.)
A few days later, I got into a little...spat, on Facebook, with someone who was quite homophobic, and whose witnessing style consisted of literally threatening people with hell and "God's judgement." He took issue to my rainbow face, since it was just after the Supreme Court victory.
With one of his "friends," they ganged up on me, he asking me if I was Catholic as a Christian, and his "friend" at one point asking, "Were you saved, AJ? Do you believe that Jesus rose from the dead?"
That one really threw me for a loop. I had heard that line so many times, and would have even said it myself, if I had had the courage and not been a shy, homeschooled teenager. My first reaction was to roll my eyes.
My second reaction was different. It was a little painful for me to contemplate, since I tried so hard to get close to God and to please him (and I did not simply forget to say the sinners prayer and mean it, and I did not try to earn my salvation with works). If there is something to be saved from, and if sincerity counts for anything, I know I was, and am, saved.
That was the gist of my reply. What I didn't tell them was that a part of me, if God was real, was hurt that he had apparently let me just let me lose my faith, and possibly (if these people were right), my salvation. I had begged God to show himself to me, in fact, so that I could still believe in him.
The one with the more palatable witnessing style gave me the usual sales pitch, about how I could get close to God, with this little gem tacked on:
"You can be the man God wants you to be."
I started howling with laughter. I had always thought my short name was gender-neutral, and even feminine, with how many female characters on TV have that name, though I have yet to be taken for a woman. Yet that is what I am.
This homophobic person, basically, was saying that God wants me to be transgender!
I told them as much, and said that I was sorry, but I just couldn't stop laughing. The nice Christian "LOL-ed" along with me, but I don't think the angry dude ever forgave me for my comments (including that Jesus was bi), or for not getting saved then and there.
(What neither of them realized was that my pseudofaith is progressive Christian, not evangelical, so that if I got saved tomorrow, I would still be just as rainbow as ever, among other things--and they would still be worried about my soul, and we would still be arguing over the same exact things.)
I later saw the angry guy telling someone to stop smoking pot, because that was sorcery. I said hello to Angry Guy, and turned on the charm (if you know what I mean).
He said that if I got saved, God would deliver me from "the curse of being homo." I told him that that's not how it works, that many Christians struggle with homosexual feelings, even if they thought it was wrong. He then said this to me:
"stay cursed aj your not my problem." (sic)
He repeated the "stayed cursed" line once or twice within that same conversation. When I realized what he was doing, I was flabbergasted.
He was condemning someone else for "sorcery," then literally trying to use Jesus to put a curse on me!
Suddenly Harry Potter didn't seem so bad anymore. I asked him why he was doing this, but got no response.
I am convinced that by "stay cursed," he didn't mean that he was okay with my being "homo," but that he wanted my life to be bad, and possibly that he wanted to consign me to hell (he sometimes even added "LOL" to his threats of fire and brimstone).
How is some Christians' "spiritual warfare" techniques not just like the "witchcraft" they condemn, in all its forms? The only difference is that they try to use Jesus, not demons, as they accuse many others of doing. They are trying to get power from spiritual forces, just as they accuse others of doing. The only difference that they believe their power is good, and more powerful than that of others--in other words, evangelical Christians are white witches by another name.
Yet what if Jesus doesn't want me to be cursed? What if he is not okay with people trying to use his power to curse others? I know I wouldn't be. Maybe they aren't "true" Christians, if they're doing this. "Lord, Lord, did we not drive out demons in your name...?"
"This may not be the last time you hear this," I said, "'I tell you the truth, I never knew you.'"
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
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"He became addicted to it!" she related in a horrified, conspiratorial whisper.
I realize now that what happened was that he started reading them in order to warn others about them, because he thought they were demonic, and then ended up changing his mind because he liked them. But at the time, I imagined spiritual shackles, bondage to sin, and his relationship with God suffering, taking a back seat, and even being severed. (Funny how I didn't hear about the "once saved, always saved" doctrine in the early 2000s, nearly as much as I do now...)
My grandmother on my father's side (the more liberal side of the family) asked my parents if she could buy Harry Potter books for me. My parents asked me if I wanted to read them. I said no. My mother thought that they were likely demonic, but she let me have the choice, which I am grateful for today. She trusted me to make my own decisions on spiritual matters, even at ten and eleven years old. But I couldn't fathom reading something that I thought my parents might disapprove of, much less something that I thought would jeopardize my relationship with God and pull me into worshiping Satan and committing witchcraft. I worried and prayed for my grandmother's soul (and this was only one reason why, unfortunately for me and my relationship to her).
But then a decade and a half later, I found myself an agnostic atheist, staring at a paperback copy of Harry Potter And The Sorcerer's Stone, for only twenty-five cents. I was surprised that the Catholic-owned charity shop, which gave away all their bibles for free, would sell it. I was sure that they wouldn't sell it in Harry Potter's heyday, probably would simply throw it in the trash, but as far as I know, all of the volunteers there are elderly, and someone may have forgotten how "bad" it was.
So I bought it, very eager to see what all the fuss was about, and I loved it. It was easier to read than most fantasy books I had come across, because it talked plainly of everyday life in our world (at first), with much whimsy and many keen observations about human behavior.
(I am onto the second book in the series, Harry Potter And The Chamber of Secrets, now. I guess I'm addicted, though my third-grade teacher wouldn't think much of my relationship to God today--though I don't think I would have a bad relationship to him or her, if God exists.)
A few days later, I got into a little...spat, on Facebook, with someone who was quite homophobic, and whose witnessing style consisted of literally threatening people with hell and "God's judgement." He took issue to my rainbow face, since it was just after the Supreme Court victory.
With one of his "friends," they ganged up on me, he asking me if I was Catholic as a Christian, and his "friend" at one point asking, "Were you saved, AJ? Do you believe that Jesus rose from the dead?"
That one really threw me for a loop. I had heard that line so many times, and would have even said it myself, if I had had the courage and not been a shy, homeschooled teenager. My first reaction was to roll my eyes.
My second reaction was different. It was a little painful for me to contemplate, since I tried so hard to get close to God and to please him (and I did not simply forget to say the sinners prayer and mean it, and I did not try to earn my salvation with works). If there is something to be saved from, and if sincerity counts for anything, I know I was, and am, saved.
That was the gist of my reply. What I didn't tell them was that a part of me, if God was real, was hurt that he had apparently let me just let me lose my faith, and possibly (if these people were right), my salvation. I had begged God to show himself to me, in fact, so that I could still believe in him.
The one with the more palatable witnessing style gave me the usual sales pitch, about how I could get close to God, with this little gem tacked on:
"You can be the man God wants you to be."
I started howling with laughter. I had always thought my short name was gender-neutral, and even feminine, with how many female characters on TV have that name, though I have yet to be taken for a woman. Yet that is what I am.
This homophobic person, basically, was saying that God wants me to be transgender!
I told them as much, and said that I was sorry, but I just couldn't stop laughing. The nice Christian "LOL-ed" along with me, but I don't think the angry dude ever forgave me for my comments (including that Jesus was bi), or for not getting saved then and there.
(What neither of them realized was that my pseudofaith is progressive Christian, not evangelical, so that if I got saved tomorrow, I would still be just as rainbow as ever, among other things--and they would still be worried about my soul, and we would still be arguing over the same exact things.)
I later saw the angry guy telling someone to stop smoking pot, because that was sorcery. I said hello to Angry Guy, and turned on the charm (if you know what I mean).
He said that if I got saved, God would deliver me from "the curse of being homo." I told him that that's not how it works, that many Christians struggle with homosexual feelings, even if they thought it was wrong. He then said this to me:
"stay cursed aj your not my problem." (sic)
He repeated the "stayed cursed" line once or twice within that same conversation. When I realized what he was doing, I was flabbergasted.
He was condemning someone else for "sorcery," then literally trying to use Jesus to put a curse on me!
Suddenly Harry Potter didn't seem so bad anymore. I asked him why he was doing this, but got no response.
I am convinced that by "stay cursed," he didn't mean that he was okay with my being "homo," but that he wanted my life to be bad, and possibly that he wanted to consign me to hell (he sometimes even added "LOL" to his threats of fire and brimstone).
How is some Christians' "spiritual warfare" techniques not just like the "witchcraft" they condemn, in all its forms? The only difference is that they try to use Jesus, not demons, as they accuse many others of doing. They are trying to get power from spiritual forces, just as they accuse others of doing. The only difference that they believe their power is good, and more powerful than that of others--in other words, evangelical Christians are white witches by another name.
Yet what if Jesus doesn't want me to be cursed? What if he is not okay with people trying to use his power to curse others? I know I wouldn't be. Maybe they aren't "true" Christians, if they're doing this. "Lord, Lord, did we not drive out demons in your name...?"
"This may not be the last time you hear this," I said, "'I tell you the truth, I never knew you.'"
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
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Tuesday, August 4, 2015
Totally Hetero Pudge And Ronny: Chapter One
I was homeschooled with this certain curriculum, and I am very proud of my Accelerated Christian Education comic fan fiction, the very first ACE fan fiction on the internet, to my knowledge. So I have decided to publish it here, for people's convenience, and of course to show off. Here is the first chapter, and to see many more chapters (thirteen so far!) click here.
It was pouring rain, and Pudge McMercy was out in it, on the dirty asphalt shoulder of the freeway trying, and failing, to change a tire. Tentatively, for what seemed like the millionth time, he tried to turn one of the bolts, but the iron was too slippery, and fell out of his hand.
"Aarrgh!" he growled. "Flippin' macadamia-fudger!"
It took all he had in him not to let loose with a stream of profanity, but he gritted his teeth, then took steady, deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. He wondered if it was too late; he had already lost his temper, cussed in his heart. What did it matter now if he said it out loud? But that was not a good thought, so he "took it captive" and tried to dismiss it. He had done that a lot lately, for a long time now, and it never seemed to work for long.
Slightly out of breath, he rested on his heels, staring at the tire, and contemplating his own masculinity. He was supposed to be able to change a tire; every man was. But he had grown up with a widowed mother, who was not a very self-reliant woman, and in spite of the men in the church taking him under their wings, the subject of changing a tire had never come up. He knew the basics, knew what he was supposed to do, but had never attempted this on his own, and besides that he wasn't in the best of shape.
He had been out here for nearly half an hour. Twice he had recognized the cars of people from his church, and had tried to wave them down, but they had not seen him.
They didn't see me, he told himself. They didn't see me.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of another motor. He looked up, glad to have help, but this wasn't any vehicle he recognized. It was an older black Ford pickup, maybe from the seventies or early eighties. It was older than most of the cars in his church parking lot on a Sunday, and had a few dints in it too.
Pudge stood up, trying to see the driver. But the rain pouring off the windshield made it difficult to see inside. The engine died, the door opened, and a tall, lanky young man stepped out. He had long black hair, wore a black leather jacket, and dirty jeans. There was something vaguely familiar about the jaunty, slightly cocky way he walked...
"Hey, buddy, looks like you could use some help," the man began, then stopped, cocking his head. "Pudge?" he asked. "Pudge McMercy?"
"Yes...?" Pudge answered.
"It's me, Ronny! We grew up together, remember? We knew each other as kids."
Yes, he remembered Ronny--all too well. Pudge's heart sank; he had thought it couldn't get any worse.
"Ronny!" he smiled, in spite of himself. "How are you, Ronny?"
"Great. Doesn't look like you're doing too hot, though," he nodded towards Pudge's car, a small red Honda about ten years old. It was one of the older cars in the church parking lot, but was all Pudge could afford.
"Oh, yeah, I, um...that's nothing. I'll have the tire changed in a minute," he lied. He wasn't about to let Ronny Vain see him try and fail to change a tire. "Don't worry about me," he added.
"What are gonna do, pray the tire off?" Ronny asked quickly, without apparent malice. "I do this all the time, let me," Ronny shrugged, pushing past him.
"But...I...it's..." Pudge tried to protest, but Ronny was already at work, cracking the bolts with relative ease. What was happening here? Pudge was supposed to minister to people like Ronny, not the other way around.
"Where's the hubcap?" Ronny looked up, water streaming off his long black locks. Pudge barely heard him, somehow fixated upon the tiny water droplets clinging to Ronny's long, dark eyelashes.
"Well?" Ronny asked, puzzled.
"Huh?" Pudge mumbled, confused.
"The hubcap. Where's the hubcap, Pudge?"
"Hubcap?" Pudge shook his head, clearing his mind. "Oh, hubcap. I don't have one. Not on that one. I...I lost it."
"That's okay. Here, hold this," he handed Pudge a bolt, slightly tickling his wet palm. Pudge's cupped hands felt strange as Ronny handed the bolts to him, one by one.
Pudge backed up as Ronny removed the tire and replaced it with the spare, almost, but not quite, glancing at Ronny's backside in the tight jeans.
Pudge looked away, staring stonily into space as Ronny took the bolts back, one by one, fingertips brushing against his hands. When Ronny took the last one, Pudge's hands went slack, as he still stared into the distance, trying to think of anything but the young man right in front of him.
"Okay, all done!" Ronny straightened up, wiping his wet hands on his jeans. Ronny grinned at him, that old, cocky smile that Pudge always found both irritating, and, when it was genuine, actually quite nice.
"Now I don't have to take a shower," Ronny joked lamely. Pudge couldn't think of an answer.
Ronny turned around, stooping to pick up the jack.
"I can get that," Pudge said quickly. Ronny brushed past him, ignoring him, and put it back in the open trunk. Pudge moved to get the tire, but Ronny was faster, and practically took it away from him.
"There, all set," Ronny said, closing the trunk. "You don't need a jump-start or anything, do you? I can drive you into town to get a part."
"No...no, it's not the car. It was the tire."
"Okay then. Nice to see you again, Pudge!" he grinned, getting back in his truck and slamming the door.
Pudge stood beside the car, staring at Ronny, dumbfounded. Ronny gestured toward the car, silently telling Pudge to get in. Ronny wouldn't leave until he saw that Pudge had started his car and was pulling away.
Pudge turned around, sheepishly waving his thanks. Ronny smiled, blaring his horn in response.
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
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I also have a Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Atheist-Journeys/1543588489197291?
It was pouring rain, and Pudge McMercy was out in it, on the dirty asphalt shoulder of the freeway trying, and failing, to change a tire. Tentatively, for what seemed like the millionth time, he tried to turn one of the bolts, but the iron was too slippery, and fell out of his hand.
"Aarrgh!" he growled. "Flippin' macadamia-fudger!"
It took all he had in him not to let loose with a stream of profanity, but he gritted his teeth, then took steady, deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. He wondered if it was too late; he had already lost his temper, cussed in his heart. What did it matter now if he said it out loud? But that was not a good thought, so he "took it captive" and tried to dismiss it. He had done that a lot lately, for a long time now, and it never seemed to work for long.
Slightly out of breath, he rested on his heels, staring at the tire, and contemplating his own masculinity. He was supposed to be able to change a tire; every man was. But he had grown up with a widowed mother, who was not a very self-reliant woman, and in spite of the men in the church taking him under their wings, the subject of changing a tire had never come up. He knew the basics, knew what he was supposed to do, but had never attempted this on his own, and besides that he wasn't in the best of shape.
He had been out here for nearly half an hour. Twice he had recognized the cars of people from his church, and had tried to wave them down, but they had not seen him.
They didn't see me, he told himself. They didn't see me.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of another motor. He looked up, glad to have help, but this wasn't any vehicle he recognized. It was an older black Ford pickup, maybe from the seventies or early eighties. It was older than most of the cars in his church parking lot on a Sunday, and had a few dints in it too.
Pudge stood up, trying to see the driver. But the rain pouring off the windshield made it difficult to see inside. The engine died, the door opened, and a tall, lanky young man stepped out. He had long black hair, wore a black leather jacket, and dirty jeans. There was something vaguely familiar about the jaunty, slightly cocky way he walked...
"Hey, buddy, looks like you could use some help," the man began, then stopped, cocking his head. "Pudge?" he asked. "Pudge McMercy?"
"Yes...?" Pudge answered.
"It's me, Ronny! We grew up together, remember? We knew each other as kids."
Yes, he remembered Ronny--all too well. Pudge's heart sank; he had thought it couldn't get any worse.
"Ronny!" he smiled, in spite of himself. "How are you, Ronny?"
"Great. Doesn't look like you're doing too hot, though," he nodded towards Pudge's car, a small red Honda about ten years old. It was one of the older cars in the church parking lot, but was all Pudge could afford.
"Oh, yeah, I, um...that's nothing. I'll have the tire changed in a minute," he lied. He wasn't about to let Ronny Vain see him try and fail to change a tire. "Don't worry about me," he added.
"What are gonna do, pray the tire off?" Ronny asked quickly, without apparent malice. "I do this all the time, let me," Ronny shrugged, pushing past him.
"But...I...it's..." Pudge tried to protest, but Ronny was already at work, cracking the bolts with relative ease. What was happening here? Pudge was supposed to minister to people like Ronny, not the other way around.
"Where's the hubcap?" Ronny looked up, water streaming off his long black locks. Pudge barely heard him, somehow fixated upon the tiny water droplets clinging to Ronny's long, dark eyelashes.
"Well?" Ronny asked, puzzled.
"Huh?" Pudge mumbled, confused.
"The hubcap. Where's the hubcap, Pudge?"
"Hubcap?" Pudge shook his head, clearing his mind. "Oh, hubcap. I don't have one. Not on that one. I...I lost it."
"That's okay. Here, hold this," he handed Pudge a bolt, slightly tickling his wet palm. Pudge's cupped hands felt strange as Ronny handed the bolts to him, one by one.
Pudge backed up as Ronny removed the tire and replaced it with the spare, almost, but not quite, glancing at Ronny's backside in the tight jeans.
Pudge looked away, staring stonily into space as Ronny took the bolts back, one by one, fingertips brushing against his hands. When Ronny took the last one, Pudge's hands went slack, as he still stared into the distance, trying to think of anything but the young man right in front of him.
"Okay, all done!" Ronny straightened up, wiping his wet hands on his jeans. Ronny grinned at him, that old, cocky smile that Pudge always found both irritating, and, when it was genuine, actually quite nice.
"Now I don't have to take a shower," Ronny joked lamely. Pudge couldn't think of an answer.
Ronny turned around, stooping to pick up the jack.
"I can get that," Pudge said quickly. Ronny brushed past him, ignoring him, and put it back in the open trunk. Pudge moved to get the tire, but Ronny was faster, and practically took it away from him.
"There, all set," Ronny said, closing the trunk. "You don't need a jump-start or anything, do you? I can drive you into town to get a part."
"No...no, it's not the car. It was the tire."
"Okay then. Nice to see you again, Pudge!" he grinned, getting back in his truck and slamming the door.
Pudge stood beside the car, staring at Ronny, dumbfounded. Ronny gestured toward the car, silently telling Pudge to get in. Ronny wouldn't leave until he saw that Pudge had started his car and was pulling away.
Pudge turned around, sheepishly waving his thanks. Ronny smiled, blaring his horn in response.
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