Help I'm Gay and I Can't Get Up [part I]

Christopher Tye knew that the apocalypse was not as imminent as people in his congregation seemed to believe it was.

He was certain, however, that Satan had escaped hell and made a discreet comeback. It seemed odd, considering his flashy style in Genesis, but perhaps a few years in damnation had given the old soul-stealer some patience.

Or maybe he was just truly evil.

Either way, Christopher was certain that Satan was now a sixty-something lesbian named Mildred. Affectionately referred to as ‘Mildy’.

And it was going to take every bit of patience, prayer and other-worldly power he could muster to keep the church together and heterosexual with her in it. Or to keep the congregation from stoning her to death.

He hadn’t thought it possible, having been raised in a very nice family with wonderful loving grandparents, that old people could be so… lewd.

She never wore a bra or a coat, so the congregation was either subjected to her pendulous breasts swinging to and fro as she swayed to the hymns or the sight of her sagging hard nipples, dangling at the end of her breasts like the last little droplet on an icicle.

She hit on people’s grandmothers and offered the grandfathers a free show if they promised to be good. She complained about the lack of available women her age at church socials and had convinced several of the girls in the youth group that God had made women second because he hadn’t perfected the multiple orgasm the first time.

And she told everyone who’d listen how much God loved her. How much He loved everybody.

Christopher knew, knew because he knew his faith well, that she was as damned as anyone he had ever met. She was completely unrepentant about the sex, the nudity, the refusal to accept her place as a woman within the church or in society, and… most disgustingly, the homosexuality.

But when she spoke, when she sat down in the pew to pray, Christopher felt the smallest twinge of guilt and somewhere amidst the condemnations, he held onto a hope, a prayer, a whisper of wishfulness that God would…

Well, it didn’t matter what he wanted. The judgment of God was not for mere men to question.

And besides, he had a sermon to prepare and he was due in group therapy at six.

> Fairytale