60 comments/ 69063 views/ 24 favorites Jesus Please Forgive Me By: StangStar06 Hi folks, this story is based on the Concrete Blonde song of the same title. Listening to the song might help you enjoy the story more, but it isn't necessary. From now on when I do s story about a song, I'll try to give you a warning on my twitter page so you can listen to the song beforehand. I'm grateful to Mikothebaby for her usual incredible editing job. She has also taken over my brain and has me watching NASCAR and drinking cocoa. * * * * * * As I opened the doors to the church, so the long phalanx of people waiting outside could enter, I nodded at the preacher standing in the pulpit. Besides me, he was the only person who knew what was about to happen, or so he thought. I looked across the church and saw that my wife had noticed the exchange between the reverend and myself. She smiled nervously. I guess she didn't think that I liked him much. In her mind though, any contact between the two of us was good. As the hundreds of church members watched, a long line of people, mostly black, who wore long choir robes, slowly filed into the church. The murmuring immediately stopped when a woman at the head of the line raised her hands and in the loudest, purest voice the church had ever witnessed, began to sing. Her voice was so powerful that it carried throughout the church even without amplification of any kind. "Whoah oh oh, Ja-yeeeee-zusssss. Pleee-eeez forgive meee-eee." She paused for dramatic effect. "....For the things ah'm about too-ooo-ooo-ooo....Saaaa-aayyy." At that exact moment, I felt like the Phoenix; the legendary bird of fire that rises from the ashes and burns every fucking thing in its path to the ground. My eyes narrowed and yet I smiled. But it wasn't a friendly smile. To reference this type of smile, think shark, think wolf, think the Grinch...just before their moments of triumph. Several of the bastards within these walls had done me wrong and the day of reckoning had arrived. I aimed my remote at the pulpit and the large screen behind the preacher dropped down from the ceiling and lit up. He looked at me strangely because all he knew about was the choir that was walking slowly through the church. Music came from the speakers arranged around the church and the choir responded as they filed through one door and arced towards the other. The congregation had never heard music like this before. It wasn't any form of southern gospel. In fact, it wasn't a religious song at all. It was very heavy hard rock, almost metal. Some of them opened their mouths in shock. Others started bopping their heads back and forth in time to the music or dancing. This was my moment so I milked it. I raised my hands and started to dance too. The vocalist, who had reached the center of the church, started in on the song's first verse. If the preacher and his congregation had expected a hymn to the glory of the Lord, or an uplifting song to lift the faithful, they were shocked. It was a song about that other aspect of the bible; VENGEANCE. Almost every mouth dropped open as the short fat woman, sang in that same powerful voice. Her tone had changed, it was no longer respectful. It was conniving and nasty. Even I was amazed at her ability to phrase and deliver the song with exactly the emotion I felt. "I killed you in my mind today. I cut you up, I watched you bleed." "I killed you in my heart today. For everything you did to me." "I murdered you a hundred times. I shot you dead and never cried." "I killed you in my mind today. I laughed and watched you die." The preacher stuttered and started to say something but then noticed people staring and pointing at the screen behind him. I watched his face intently as he turned to see what they were all staring at. Okay, before this gets too far along and you guys all sentence me to hell, let's go back to where this started. Or at least to where it all started for me. Let's go back three weeks exactly. I'm an average guy. There's nothing special about me. I'm so average that my name is John Smith, which is one of the most average names in the country. If I needed to disappear, I wouldn't even have to change my name because there are so fucking many John Smiths that I can just vanish. I'm five foot ten, I weigh a hundred and eighty five pounds which is again, average. I have brown hair and brown eyes. I'm thirty five years old, which isn't too old or very young and once again makes me...average. I married my college sweetheart and we've been married for thirteen years. As I said, this all started on a Sunday, exactly three weeks ago. Sundays are my favorite days of the week. Before you go too far, let me stop you. I'm not religious. Before today, the last time I had my ass inside of a church was...well it's been a long assed time. I think that church is fine for people who like church. I just have other things to do on a Sunday. I spend my Sundays handling two very important things year round. I wake up very early on Sunday and go out and do my longest run of the week. I love to run. I started in high school and ran track all through college. Now I run marathons and local 5K and 10K races. On the average Sunday during the summer I might run 16 to 20 miles early Sunday morning before the heat of the day hits. Running extremely long distances takes a lot of the glycogen out of your system, so when I come in from my run I'm in no mood to go to church. I spend the bulk of the day depending on the season with football, baseball or NASCAR, with the odd track meet thrown in when I can find them. This is a serious bone of contention with my wife, because she practically lives in our small town's church. By the time my legs recover, it's usually about an hour or so before the sun goes down. That makes it the perfect time to wash my car. Washing my Mustang is my second big Sunday activity for most of the year. I enjoy doing it and it takes me a good couple of hours at least to do it. I should point out that my wife hates my car. In the interest of equal time, I should also point out that I don't give a fuck about my wife hating my car. Don't get me wrong, I love Kim, but over the past thirteen years that we've been married, things have settled a bit. We started out hot and spicy like most couples. We were so in love that we couldn't be away from each other for even a few minutes. Over the years, we got comfortable with each other which isn't always a good thing. We developed hobbies. Mine, of course, are running and Mustangs. Hers are the church and charity work. We both also agreed that we should put off having kids for a while. According to the schedule that we set, this year would be the perfect year for us to start. I'm thirty five, so I'm settled and responsible enough for fatherhood. She's thirty one, so while her biological clock hasn't started screaming in desperation just yet, she's primed and ready. She also doesn't really have to worry too much about losing her figure because it's already gone. For the first ten years of our marriage, she dieted and tried to keep herself pretty for me. Now the only time she even thinks about putting on makeup is when she's going to church or to do some work for a charity. My running keeps me slim and trim. The fact that I love her, means that she doesn't have to worry about whether she's picked up a pound or thirty. Anyway, three weeks ago, I'd decided to do my long run on the trails out near the local quarry. It would give me a change of scenery from the loop I usually run around the local park and also give my joints a break from pounding the asphalt road surface. The grass and dirt of the trails were softer and more forgiving. I drove out there and had a good run. In my excitement over running in a new area, I forgot to bring my usual drink and after run snack. The first thing you guys should probably know is that I am not a world class athlete. I don't follow a strict diet and I don't always eat healthy foods. My usual after workout snack is a bag of chips and a wild cherry Pepsi. In my mind the chips are carbs and they also help replace the sodium I lost during the run. If you've ever really looked at Powerade or any of those other shitty tasting sports drinks, most of them are just sugar, water and a few electrolytes. So if I drink the Pepsi and throw in a banana, I'm good and I don't have that shitty sports drink taste in my mouth for the rest of the day. So I pulled into a local gas station for a Pepsi and a bag of chips. I looked like hell. Or at least like a thirty five year old guy who'd just ran twenty miles and didn't have his Pepsi. I looked around the convenience store part of the gas station and grabbed chips. They didn't have wild cherry Pepsi. I had to settle for regular Pepsi. As I stepped up to the counter, I recognized the woman who worked there. Shit, we live in a small town so pretty much everyone knows everyone else anyway. "I guess you didn't go to church today, huh?" she said. Jane Foster, the woman working the station had been two cycles behind me for most of my life. When I hit high school, she was in elementary school and so on. She was about eight years younger than me and four years younger than my wife. That put her at about twenty seven and she really didn't look it. Maybe not looking her age was why they gave her that weird nickname, Poke. She had brown hair like mine, but where mine was just brown, hers somehow was shiny and full of different highlights. Her hair just looked fucking sparkly. Her blue eyes also didn't hurt much. In fact, she was just the cutest thing to ever crawl from between her mother's thighs. I knew her whole family and hated most of them. I remember beating her brother, Grant's ass several times during high school. Her other brother Brooks, considered himself to be too smart to get into fights. I think he was just smart enough to know that he was smaller than Grant and would probably get his ass whipped too. Looking at Jane that morning though made me wonder why I'd never paid her much attention growing up. Maybe it's because eighteen year olds don't really look at ten year olds unless there's something wrong with them. And twenty year olds don't really have the time or the patience for twelve year olds. And by the time I was twenty two I was so crazy about Kim, that no other women on the face of the earth existed. Over the years, I'd heard a lot of things about Janie and never really paid them too much attention. I figured what other people did was no skin off of my ass so why not live and let live. The mature Janie was certainly something to see. She was tan and curvy. She had on a long men's work shirt, with about four buttons open. I could see evidence of very deep cleavage as she leaned forward to take my money and stayed there for a few seconds longer than was necessary. She had on shorts and while they weren't daisy dukes, they were tight enough to show off the curves of her rounded ass and her narrow waist. "I guess you didn't go to church either," I said. She smiled and her hand lingered on mine as she gave me the change. "Why should I?" she asked. "Those people are all full of shit." "Most people are," I said. "But you'd think that people who spend all of their time trying to tell everyone else how to live, would at least live up to the bullshit they spew," she said. And from the way that she said it, I got the idea that she was talking from personal experience. "I don't go," I said. "I figure that the relationship between me and the almighty is a personal thing and I can handle it just fine without any outside guidance." "I agree," she smiled. "Maybe you ought to get Kim out of there before it's too late." "What do you mean?" I asked. "Just take a serious look at that church and those people," she said. "I don't need to start gossiping. There's enough gossip around town as it is. And not all of it is true. So, people hearing dirt, especially when it comes from someone like me, just goes in one ear and out the other." I looked at her strangely. "Come on John," she said. "I'm sure you've heard all of the stories about how wild I am and how many guys around town have fucked me. My favorite is the one about how I didn't go to college because I was pregnant and no one knew who the father was. Supposedly the guys from the local junior college were over at my house every day." "I never paid very much attention to gossip," I said. "But I guess that sounds possible." "John, I didn't go to college because in my last year of high school, when I was still a virgin, my mom got sick. It was decided that I should stay home and take care of her, because my older brothers were already in college. We also needed someone to cook and clean for my dad and my younger brothers. The guys were always at our house to hang out with my brothers, they rarely ever noticed me. A few years after that, my mom died and my dad got sick. I took care of him for three years until he passed last spring and I started working here." "I'm trying to save up enough money to get the fuck out of this small minded, small town. I'm twenty eight years old and have had sex with a total of three men and none of them more than three or four times. There aren't very many women in this town who can say that. Some of the married women have..." She just stopped talking as if she'd said too much. "Janie, I don't know you," I said. "So you don't have anything to prove to me. And you took what I said the wrong way. I was trying to make a joke not a personal attack." "What did you mean, then?" she asked. "I just meant that when you were talking about all of the guys coming over to your house all the time, that it was possible because you're pretty enough for them to want to do that," I said. Her tanned face turned red. "John...did you know that I've always had a crush on you," she gushed out. "I used to use you to scare my brothers, when they were being mean to me. If they made me angry, I'd just say, "I'm going to be there next time John Smith kicks your ass and I'll do my laughing then." I think that's why I got my nickname. " I looked at her puzzled. "Don't they call you...?" I started. "They call me Poke now," she smiled. "It's a morphed nickname. They started out calling me Pocahontas because I was always talking about John Smith. Over the years, they just shortened it." We stood there looking at each other until the bell rang when another customer came in and broke the spell. "Poke, I need some beer," said a short guy who needed a haircut. "NASCAR is coming on." "What kind Mr. Brady?" she asked. "The kind you drink," he said smiling. "Hey, John." He said to me. "Hey, Tom," I said back. "Remember what I said about the church," she smiled as she went to show him where the beer was." I thought about it for a couple of days. It was always in the back of my mind. It was a couple of days later that I was sitting at my desk at the plant. The phone on my desk rang and I picked it up without giving it much thought. "John Smith," I said. "You need to go home for lunch today," said a muffled female voice and then the phone went silent. I wrote it off as one of the guys at the plant who worked for me trying to play some kind of joke on me. They were always doing things like that. They'd tell me to go down onto the production floor because there was a problem. I'd go down there and when I got back my chair would be missing or something stupid like that. They really got me once when I went out to lunch and when I came back they'd entered a command into my computer that flipped the screen upside down. I couldn't let them know that they'd gotten me, so I didn't want to ask them how to undo it. I ended up having to call the Microsoft help line after a couple of days to take care of it. But the voice on the phone had been a woman's, and while it wasn't unlikely for them to get their wives in on the joke, for some reason, I just took it seriously. I was sure that I was just being stupid and falling for yet another practical joke, but I headed home anyway. When I pulled into the driveway of my average sized house, my life changed again. I saw my wife's Honda in the driveway but there was another car there as well. It was one of those older Cadillacs. I knew who the car belonged to and I was worried. The car belonged to Reverend Pendergast. And I was anticipating having to listen to another of his lectures on why I should come to church. I figured that I'd just sneak into the house through the back door and grab a quick snack and take it back to work with me. That way I could avoid the bullshit. Once again, I have nothing against religion. I think it's great for religious people. But I just don't like having someone else's fixation crammed down my throat. I really don't need the fire and brimstone. I don't need to have my immortal soul saved. If I'm going to hell, I'll probably be driving a Mustang. On the other hand, I don't try to force people into my beliefs either. I mean just think about it. My wife drives a fucking Honda. How much more open minded could I be? So, I slipped in through the back of the house and made it into the kitchen. Once I got there, all plans of sneaking in and out vanished. There in my living room, my wife was being fucked by the reverend's driver. There he was huffing and puffing away at her, while praising the Lord. And Kim was praising the Lord too. It just looked weird. There was something wrong here. I'd had enough friends go through divorces to know that charging in and kicking his ass was not the way to go. I took a short video on my iPhone and a few still shots that showed their faces. Then I snuck back out of the house. I took my normal hour for lunch to think about things. I examined every bit of the incident from the beginning. I knew now that the female voice on the phone was probably one of my neighbors trying to warn me. The idea that it was one of my coworkers playing a joke was gone. Thirteen years down the drain, I thought. I knew that I had to seriously consider my next move. I spoke to several of my friends over the next few days who'd been through divorces. I asked them all kinds of questions. I asked which lawyers they used and what they got in the settlement. I asked them why their divorces had happened. I also spoke to a few friends who'd had problems in their marriages that had managed to stay together. The results were surprising. The majority of the cases actually involved the men cheating on their wives. I figured that those had very little to do with me. In the rest, fifty percent of them ended in divorce, either from the beginning or a few years or months later. In the majority of the cases where the couples were able to stay together, the couple really loved each other so much that they were able to put it behind them. In a few of those cases, the wife was drunk or manipulated into the infidelity and they were isolated incidents. The rest were cases where the couple stayed together for their children or for financial reasons. There were also cases where the husband was allowed to even things up. There were some cases where the couples really loved each other and made a valiant effort to stay together but once the trust was destroyed in the marriage, there was simply no way to restore it. The husbands took to questioning every place their wives went. They were always trying to catch them doing something. Over time, the wives began to resent it and most of them ended up in divorce anyway. I wondered then if I loved Kim enough to even try. Over the years, as I've mentioned before, we'd grown apart and developed our own interests. This might be the time and the reason for both of us to move on. I wondered then if I truly even loved Kim anymore. Did I really still love her or were we just comfortable together. She wasn't being forced at gunpoint to have sex with the guy. And she'd done it in my fucking living room. In a way, it was kind of funny. As I've said, Kim is no spring chicken and any beauty she once had has faded. But you'd think that with all the shit she does for the church, at least she'd rate high enough to fuck the preacher instead of his God damned driver. Jesus Please Forgive Me I didn't figure it all out that afternoon, but I think that sitting there in my car, I made my decision. I realized after a while that I needed to get back to work. But even as I drove back, I started to wonder what I wanted. Not only what I wanted out of this situation but what I wanted period. Kim was supposed to be the person I grew old with. If that was truly what I wanted, why had I not given any thought to what it would take for me to forgive her? Why had I not even considered saving my marriage? I think at that moment I already knew the answers. Kim and I had grown apart over the years and maybe I was just using this episode to get out of a marriage, which at least from my viewpoint, was already dead. If this hadn't happened, would I have continued this lackluster union for an even longer period of time? I began to wonder exactly how many of the marriages out there are held together simply because it would take too much effort and too much drama to get out of them. A recent article I read on the internet claims that more and more women are initiating divorces. The article contends that a lot of these women want divorces simply because they don't feel appreciated. They feel like they cook and clean and take care of the kids and no one commends them for it or rewards them for doing it. I have an idea. Instead of getting a divorce, those women should try getting a fucking job. Let your husband stay home and clean the house and cook dinner with the whole fucking day to decide exactly what he wants to do and exactly when. Give the husband a month to get used to it and before the month was over he'd have a schedule worked out where he dropped off the kids at school, came home and surfed for new porn for an hour, cleaned the house and planned dinner. Then he'd make a noon golf date, come home take a nap, pick the kids up, make the dinner he'd planned and then still be hot and ready for sex by the time his wife dragged her tired ass home. Kim doesn't have very much to do. We don't have any kids. We're adults, so we clean up after ourselves. I do all of the yard work and we often switch off on who does the cooking. Maybe that's why she was fucking the preacher's chauffeur. She needed something to fucking do. Whatever the reasons were, it was going to be up to Kim to convince ME that we needed to stay together. As far as I was concerned, it was all over but the shouting. I thought about something that someone had recently told me. I need to get out of this small minded, small town. I know that the people around here would think badly of me for simply abandoning Kim. The good thing to do, the righteous thing to do, would be to confront her and forgive her. We'd probably end up in counseling trying to save our marriage. Then, for the rest of my fucking life I'd be looking under bushes and following her everywhere she fucking went just to make sure she wasn't doing it again. Unh uh...I just don't see spending my life doing that. Like I said, the only reason to go through that bullshit would be if you loved the woman more than life itself and couldn't see yourself living without her. In a case like that, you'd be better off keeping her because the pain of being without her would be far worse than the hassle of trying to keep tabs on her. And I'm sorry but I just don't love Kim that fucking much. Almost from the second I walked into the house that day, I started taking swipes at Kim. I came in and sniffed the air in the house. "It's that new air freshener I'm trying," Kim said when she noticed me. "Do you like it?" "It smells like shit over a cigarette odor," I said. "Have you started smoking?" I didn't really smell cigarettes but I knew that Bobby Randall, the preacher's chauffeur, smoked like a fucking chimney. Kim looked around the room nervously and sniffed several times herself. "I thought that maybe we'd sit out on the deck and grill something for dinner after you get off of the treadmill," she said. "I think I'm going to run outside today," I said. She looked at me like I'd slapped her. We'd made an agreement a few years back that I would alternate running outside with treadmill runs so we weren't apart so much. "But..." she began. "Kim, I don't tell you when you can go to church or go to your charity stuff do I?" I asked. "So, I don't think it's fair for you to get any say in when or where I run." "But that's different," she said. "My charity work..." This time I interrupted her. "...Does absolutely nothing for us," I said. "You do it because it's something you enjoy. It doesn't pay a single bill or put one molecule of food on our table. You're gone every Sunday and three nights out of the week. Who knows how often you're gone while I'm at work. I never try to interfere in what you do, so it just seems wrong for you to have a say in my runs." "But John, we decided that you should do about half of your runs in the house so we'd be together more often. So we could spend more time together," she said. "Okay, then why don't you give up your choir rehearsal or one of those other things YOU do?" I asked. "Because those things are good for my soul," she said. "According to the bible..." "Where in the bible does it say thou shalt leave thy husband to go out and..." I began. She slapped a hand over my mouth. "John, don't blaspheme," she said. She looked hurt. "Oh, alright. It just seems selfish to me though that I'm going out to do good works to save my soul and help the community and you put it in the same category as you running around in circles while listening to the devil's music. And don't think I don't know that you have those Ozzy Osborne songs on your iPod, John." She stomped off. A few minutes later she came back. "John, maybe we can still go out on the deck and watch the stars when you come back. I didn't say anything. I noticed that after fucking Bobby Randall she was suddenly trying to find out whether or not I was in the mood. I wondered what the cause of that was. Was it guilt sex? Or had Bobby simply not gotten the job done. I remembered back to what I'd seen. Kim really had been extremely subdued while he fucked her. She'd just lain there and except for the occasional, "praise the Lord," hadn't screamed or moaned or moved. That certainly wasn't like her. I had an idea of a way to take a dig at her when I came home. I went out to the quarry again. I'd enjoyed running there Sunday, so I wanted to try a shorter run there. I'd loaded up my iPod with songs about falling out of love or relationships that had gone bad. I listened to a lot of Evanescence and Taylor Swift. Amy Lee of Evanescence is like a dark goddess of depression and shit, if Taylor Swift ever kept a boyfriend for more than a couple of weeks, her fucking career would be over. After my run was done, I stopped back at the gas station. As soon as I walked in, Janie smiled at me and I knew. As the look of shock washed over my face, she frowned. "It was you," I said. "You were the one who told me...on the phone." Her mouth grew tight and she looked down. "I'm sorry," she said. "I heard it from a couple of older ladies who were in here a couple of weeks ago. I thought about telling you before that, but you and I really don't know each other well enough to discuss things like that. But it ate at me and you just don't deserve that. So this way you can stop her from going over to that church." "Why would I stop her from going to church?" I asked. "The Reverend probably doesn't know what his chauffeur is doing and..." "What chauffeur?" she asked. "Kim is fucking the Rev..." "What?" I asked. We just stared at each other for a few minutes. "It doesn't really matter," I said. "I'm done with her anyway. In fact, I'm pretty much done with this whole fucking town." "Sorry," she said again. "At least you have the option of leaving. So what did you come out here for?" "I was running in the quarry," I said. "I need some C batteries." "Maybe I should try running," she said. "Before I start to lose what little shape I have." I couldn't help it. I just started laughing. "Janie, the shape you have is perfect," I said. She immediately started blushing. She handed me the batteries and I gave her a ten. When she started to give me change, I told her to keep it for her get out of town fund. When I got home, I left the batteries on the bed where I was sure that Kim would find them. I took a shower and changed into some comfortable clothes. I made some popcorn and melted some cheese over it and grabbed a Dos Equis Amber and went into the den and plopped myself down in front of my big screen TV. I put in a Blu Ray disc of the Fast and the Furious part five. Kim came in from the yard a few minutes later. "What are you doing?" she asked. "I thought we were going to sit out on the deck and spend some time together." "I thought that was what you said that you wanted to do," I said. "I felt like watching my favorite movie." "But you've seen that movie a hundred fu..." she caught herself. "You've watched that movie lots of times already," she said. "I've sat out on the deck with you lots of times too," I said. "Besides, I have to get ready. Part six comes out in May and I have to remember how this one ended and what was going on in it." "But you've been at work all day," she said. "I haven't seen you since this morning. I spent the whole day making the house clean and nice for you and..." "Are you sure that was what you spent the whole day doing?" I asked. I tilted my head and looked at her. The nervousness on her face was epic. "Maybe not the whole day, maybe I uh...what do you think I did? I uh..." she started stammering and got quiet. I turned back to the screen. "John, after doing all of that running and working all day, you need to eat something that's at least halfway nutritious," she said. "Gooey popcorn and beer isn't what you need." "Since when does what I need matter?" I asked. "I have nothing to do with your church." "John, I love you," she said. And I almost believed it. "But you need to get yourself right with God. No matter how much I put into the church, it won't save YOU. And maybe we need to schedule some sessions with the Reverend to talk about our marriage. Because it seems like we're going through a rough patch." "Maybe we should," I said and turned the volume up louder as she walked away. The next evening when I got home the Cadillac was in my driveway. As I walked through the house, Kim came running out to me. I noticed that Bobby was sitting on the car, lighting his usual cigarette. He struck a match, and as usual, flung the match stick over his shoulder. It bounced off of the car and settled onto the ground as he sucked the cigarette like his life depended on it. "We have a guest," she said. "Yeah, I can see that," I said. I followed her out to my deck and saw the preacher sitting on one of my deck chairs. He looked at me and smiled. He stood up and held out his hand and I looked at it. He looked nervous immediately and suddenly I knew that what Janie had told me was probably true. This went deeper than I'd thought. I was going to need some help. "Brother Smith," he began. "I didn't know that we were related," I said sharply. "We are all brothers in the lord's service," he said. "I'm not in the lord's service," I said. "I don't even go to church. I think I'm an atheist." He looked shocked again then. "You have truly lost your way," he said as if he felt sorry for me. "Perhaps that has a lot to do with the unfortunate reason that I've come here for." "Why ARE you here?" I asked. "Sister Smith asked me to sit down with the two of you in hopes of finding a solution to the problems that you are currently undergoing in your union and..." "I don't know who Sister Smith is," I said. "But if you're talking about my wife, Kim; I think that any problems we have right now have been caused by you and yours. And I'd rather sit down with a qualified therapist to discuss them." I noticed again that a look passed between him and Kim when I'd hinted that he was the source of our problems. "But..." he began as I turned towards the house. "Go with God, Reverend," I said. "I'm going out to run." As I went into the house to change into my running gear, I heard Kim talking to him. By the time I got changed they were done and he was on his way out. I met him again as he walked towards his car. He noticed my Mustang's shiny finish and the gleam of my chrome rims. "Bro...er...Mr. Smith what do you use on that car to make it shine like that?" he asked. "I'd love my Caddy to be that shiny. It's a classic you know?" "I just wash it and wax it," I said. I held back my true opinion. I really thought that his Cadillac looked like a pimp's car from the 70's. "Perhaps someday you could wash and wax my Caddy," he said smiling. "Perhaps," I said as I started the Mustang's motor. "Perhaps someday pigs will fly out of my ass too," I finished when I was far enough away from him. I didn't go out to the quarry to run. I didn't actually run at all. I went to visit my friend Jerry Willis. Jerry was a really interesting guy. When we were in high school, Jerry was the guy who knew where to get weed and beer. He was always the guy that people went to if they had problems. Jerry grew up to become a PI. He didn't get very much work in our area, but he was pretty good and he owed me a few favors. I just told Jerry that I wanted him to spend some time watching Kim. I gave him our home number and her cell number and let him do the rest. When I got home that night, Kim had made her world famous pot roast. She was sitting on the porch waiting for me when I drove up. "I got your message last night," she said. "I thought that perhaps we should talk about it over dinner." I was hungry so I followed her into the kitchen. She really had gone all out for dinner. She was also wearing make-up and had brushed her hair and changed into a different outfit. As we started to eat, she just came out with it. "John I don't know why you needed to go looking through my drawers, but okay you found it. If you want me to I'll throw it away. I haven't used it in a long time. I only needed it for you know..." she said hiding her face. "...Those times when we don't..." I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. I looked at her again. "The batteries you left on the bed..." she said. "I thought that you were acting like this because you were angry because you found my...uhm toy." "I've known about your vibrator for years, Kim," I said. "Most women have them. Why would I be angry about that?" "Well maybe you thought that it meant that you didn't..." she began. "Didn't what?" I asked. "God damn it Kim, you're a grown woman. Just say what you want to say. We're supposedly married. We're allowed to talk about sex." "I don't have the vibrator because you don't satisfy me John," she said. "You're the best at..." she stopped quickly realizing that she'd slipped. She started trying to clean it up. "I mean I've only had one man before you to ever compare it to, but between the two of you you're the absolute best. But sometimes like now when we're angry at each other and we don't...Well like last night for instance. I wanted to really badly and you didn't, so that's when I need it. But I didn't use it last night." "Well, you should definitely use it tonight then," I said. I kept eating after that. She didn't say anything. She started to, but let it drop. "John, why didn't you want to talk to the Reverend about whatever it is that's going on between us?" she asked quietly. "Because he's so full of shit his eyes are brown," I said. "John...there is something off between us, isn't there?" she asked. "I can feel it. I only asked the Reverend to come over to talk to us because I don't want things to get worse." "Kim, I don't see how things between us COULD get any worse," I said. "If you want us to talk to someone, you should find and impartial, qualified therapist for us to talk to, not some religious quack." She just nodded her head and started to collect the dishes. I helped clean up the kitchen then she went into the bedroom and made a few phone calls and I watched TV in the living room. Life continued on after that for about three days before it all became clear. Kim was doing her best to fix things between us, but without actually admitting what was going on. The wedge between us got bigger and bigger. By the end of that week though, Jerry came back to me. He'd been amazingly thorough. "Dude, I hate to tell you this but your wife is fucking..." he began. "The preacher and his chauffer," I said. "You left out the Deacon," he said. "Those three guys are getting more pussy than Hugh Hefner. And they're getting away with it because of the way they do it. Reverend Pile is slicker than duck shit. He gets all of these middle aged women who are slightly past their prime feeling all good about themselves again. He tells them at first that they're beautiful, which their husbands probably don't do anymore. He starts out with making them feel good about themselves. That gets them kind of addicted to him." "What do you mean addicted to him?" I asked. "Well, most people think that these women are just going to church," he said. "Fuck church, they're just going to get their fix of the Reverend and his bullshit. Most of them join the fucking Choir; even if they can't sing. That gets them more time with him. Then they get into the charity work. And the next thing you know they're doing favors and working around the church. They all do it on different schedules so they can get some alone time with him. That way he can concentrate his bullshit on one woman at a time. And then he really goes to town. He continues with all of the bullshit about how beautiful they are and how no one appreciates how truly special they are. Then he starts telling them about how difficult his life is and all of the responsibilities and all of that bullshit. Then he starts in on how despite having all of this responsibility, he's still only a human man and sometimes his needs aren't being met." He punctuated his words with a shit-eating grin. "The next thing you know, some middle aged, fat assed wife, who thinks she's beautiful is fucking the preacher regularly and she thinks that she's doing some great service for the community. It's like some twisted Joan of Arc thing. I can just hear the angels singing about their great sacrifice as they spread those fat thighs for this holy scumbag." He shook his head. "The thing that made it interesting was that the deacon caught on to what was going on. And naturally he wanted his piece or pieces of ass too. Then in some cases like unfortunately your wife's case, the chauffer caught on too. And none of these women think that they're doing anything wrong, it's funny as hell. It's like those knights who fought in the crusades. They went halfway around the fucking planet and committed all kinds of murders and atrocities, on people in other countries, in the name of the church. Think about it, you have all of these supposedly pious, God fearing knights, who forgot about the whole, "Thou shalt not kill," thing because the Pope told them it was cool. He used his silver tongue to make them think they could buy their way into heaven by slaughtering people; thereby breaking the commandments they were supposed to be following." "It's almost like the way that fucking Kyle Bush just drops down below the safety line and passes three or four cars because he's driving a shorter distance," I spat. Jerry kind of rolled his eyes and looked at me. "Dude this is institutionalized. They have this shit down pat," he said. He played me a tape. "Who'd have ever thought that all of these boring "next door Nancy types" would be so eager to get fucked," said the Reverend. Jesus Please Forgive Me "Yeah," said a voice I didn't recognize. "I'm still shocked that you couldn't get that bitch from the gas station." "That was a mistake on my part," said the Reverend. "It was actually a blessing that the harlot didn't go for it. The lord was looking out for me. When I thought about it, I realized that part of what makes it so easy for us to get away with this is the fact that everyone knows these women are happily married and good church going women. No one even thinks that they would do something like this. If you or I WERE seen spending time with a young single woman, it would start the tongues to wagging. We need to keep this amongst the church folk." "Amen," said the other man. "See what I mean," said Jerry. "They even have fucking rules about this." I just shook my head but I was beginning to see something. I was beginning to see that maybe I wasn't alone in this. And I was also beginning to see the need for some sort of revenge. I needed more than just to get Kim out of my life. I needed to make all of them pay. And maybe I could get some help doing it. "I have video," said Jerry. "I have all of the evidence you need to get a divorce if that's what you're after. You're lucky. They almost never do it outside of the church. Only the chauffer does that and the other two don't know that he knows. He usually only picks one woman at a time and he limits the times that he screws them. The preacher is screwing several women from the congregation regularly. He's a randy bastard. He sometimes does two of them in the same day. The deacon is getting more like two a week. And the chauffer is only fucking your wife now. From what I've heard, they get together once a week. Your wife isn't fucking the deacon. So it's really not that bad. She does the preacher on Fridays and the chauffer on Tuesday. The rest of the week she's an average housewife. She does sing in the choir and help out with the charity work, but that's it. And if it's any consolation, John, she really does love you. She just does what she does because he's convinced her that it's her duty. Some of these old biddies are fucking him three or four times a week and loving it." I spent the next few days slowly getting my own congregation together. It took me about a week to gather a crew of men that I could count on. All of them had wives that were deeply involved in the church and a couple of them were involved in the church themselves. It wasn't an easy thing to do. The majority of the men got angry when I first approached them, especially the ones who were church members themselves. There were also a couple of guys that had to be restrained once they'd seen the videos of their wives. They wanted to go right home and confront them. But once they listened to my plan, they were on board. One man was sure that we needed to get the preacher's wife onboard with us. She had no idea what was going on. She believed that the sun shone out of her husband's holy ass. I didn't trust her though. She was one of the women around town who'd pretty much wrongfully painted Janie as the town whore. One of the men I'd recruited, strangely enough was Janie's older brother Grant. Grant had also been one of the guys who'd had to be restrained. As our plan came together, we'd put old differences aside and often spoke to each other. Grant was now an older, far flabbier, balding version of himself. But he was a good guy and he loved his wife dearly. Of all of us, he was the one running around telling us exactly which punishments he was going to mete out to his wife. "John, she's going to have to give me blowjobs on demand. And we're RV'ing to every NASCAR race within five hundred miles," he said. "And she'd better not say shit about me looking at women who wear bikini's to the races." I envied him. But of the five of us, I was the only one who was going for a full divorce. The others had pretty much taken Jerry's word for it and the evidence that their wives had been manipulated. Two of those guys wanted separations during which time they'd be allowed to do whatever they wanted. Grant wanted his blowjobs and NASCAR penance. I wanted a divorce. I'm not sure whether I wanted the divorce because of what Kim was doing or if it was simply because I really believed that our marriage had run its course. But in either case, I didn't envy any of those guys the rest of their lives. They'd pretty much have to either simply put everything that had happened behind them, or spend the rest of their lives watching their wives and waiting for them to either be fooled again or to simply decide to cheat again. I just wasn't cut out for that. "John, you know Poke was probably right about you all of those years," he said. "What do you mean?" I asked. "You do know that she always thought you were something special," he said. "I'm still pissed at her though." "Why?" I asked. "Because if she knew this shit was going on, why tell you before she told her own brother?" he asked. There were still a few things I needed to do before we were ready to start. My guys helped with that. I needed access to the church for myself and Jerry so we could rig the AV system. I also needed to turn the church into a controlled funnel. That meant that I needed to make sure that only certain doors would be opened and those at the right times. I also needed to supposedly mend my fences with the Reverend. It didn't help that Kim and I were no longer on speaking terms. She'd started out by asking me the night before to reconsider speaking to the Reverend about our problems and I had simply ignored her. "John this seems to be getting worse," she said. "We haven't had sex in ten days. We used to do it, even if we were angry at each other. This isn't natural for us. I'm beginning to wonder if you're doing it with someone else. Are you?" "Are YOU?" I spat venomously. She never answered me she just started crying. "How could you even think that?" she cried. "Reverend Pile says that sometimes when men don't want their wives..." "Fuck Reverend Pile," I said. "I already told you he's full of shit. He's a PILE of shit." And I left. I went our driving around in my car. When I came back after cooling off, Kim was already in bed. I didn't bother to check on whether or not she was asleep. It took me a couple of days to work out the next part of what I wanted to do. I got the guys to help me find a time when the Reverend would be at the church alone. I caught him just as he was leaving and started to talk to him. It was all I could do to keep myself from burying my fist in his face but I held it together. After a few moments of talking about utter bullshit, he looked at me. "What did you really want to talk about?" he asked. "Well, Reverend," I said. "I really am having a problem with my marriage. And more than that I'm having a problem with life in general; people are so full of shit. Where has the compassion gone? I can't believe that those bastards at work and some of the people you meet on the street will just smile at you to your face and then stab you in the back. It's hard as hell to tell who you can really trust." He just stood there nodding his head as if he understood every bit of the bullshit I was feeding him. He really didn't understand that I was actually talking to him about himself. "Put your faith in the lord," he said. "Man will only let you down time and time again. But if you raise your faith to the heavens, you will never be disappointed." I knew then that I had the bastard hooked. He really believed that I was coming to him with my problems. He kept talking and it was all I could do to avoid laughing in his face. He went on and on. I don't even remember all of the bible verses he quoted or any of the things he said. It all just sounded like "yada-yada blah- blah yada- blah yada- yada blah- blah- blah Amen." After I got into my car and drove off, I had to pull over to the next side street. There I erupted in hysterical laughter until I got it out of my system. Over the next few days I made it a point to stop by and see him whenever I had the chance. Last Sunday, I even went to church. After the service was over the reverend and his wife were standing by the door speaking to everyone as they left. The Reverend spoke to me personally. "You've been busy John, haven't you?" he asked. I thought he'd figured out that we'd been fiddling around with the AV system, so I was nervous. "I understand that I have you to thank for several of the men who came back to church today," he said. "You brought back several men who'd lost their way." "Well," I said, smiling. "They're just men who feel the same way that I do. We just decided to come and listen to what you have to say, before it's too late." I could tell he was trying to figure out what I meant by that, but his wife interrupted us. "Honey, getting a few men who've already been members of the church at one time or another to come back is a good thing," she said. "But if he really wanted to do something impressive, he should get someone who's never been to our church, like that awful Janie Foster to come here. Now that would be a miracle." My head swiveled towards her like a missile targeting system that has just locked on. I looked at her and saw through her veneer. On the surface, she was a thin, pretty, southern preacher's wife. She had her hair done up beautifully. And her dress and shoes and all of that shit that women are into, were perfect. They'd need to invent a new kind of sugar to make someone as sweet as that bitch pretended to be. But inside, that woman was as rotten as she could be. I could see that she was probably the source of all of the rumors about Janie and just wanted to get her here in the church so she could vilify her and humiliate her even further. I decided to give her what she wanted. So after church, I went home and went out for my run later than usual. It was a bad thing to do because it meant that I'd be running in the heat, but getting that longer run in was addictive. I just didn't feel right missing it. Besides, it gave me a chance to talk to Janie. "I expected you hours ago," she smiled as I walked in. "You're a lot sweatier than normal." "I went to church this morning," I said smiling. "You're kidding me," she said. "Nope and you're going next Sunday," I said. She came out from behind the counter and stepped up to me. "Why the fuck would I do that?" She asked angrily. "Those old bitches are only going to try to put me down and..." "You're going to love it," I said. She looked at me suspiciously. "You know the preacher's wife is the one who..."I started rubbing her back. "You're planning something aren't you?" she asked smiling. I nodded my head. "Trust me, you're going to want to be there," I said. "Okay," she said. "I'll go. But I'm doing it for you. So you're going to owe me one." On Wednesday, I told the Reverend that I was sure that Janie would be in church on Sunday. He got a gleam in his eye that told me that I'd been correct about him wanting to get his hands on Janie's luscious body. On Thursday, I told him about how I'd gotten a famous local choir to drop by for a couple of musical numbers during the service Sunday. He was extremely happy about that. He patted me on the back and told me that if I kept going the way I was, I'd be a deacon in no time at all. On my way out, I noticed the Reverend's chauffer was looking at me and he seemed extremely pissed. As I passed him, he had a few words for me. "I was supposed to be the next deacon," he hissed. "Why are you trying to block me out?" He was whispering so the preacher wouldn't hear him. I grabbed him by the lapels on his cheap suit and pulled him outside where we wouldn't be heard. "I haven't forgotten about you at all," I said. "And you're really the one who started this shit. You're lucky that you're so pathetic that you're beneath my notice. I wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire. Don't make me change my mind." He looked shocked. "Fuck it," he said. "You can be the deacon. You don't get paid for it anyway." At home, things still weren't going any better. Yesterday, Kim came to speak to me. "John, I understand that you've been talking to the Reverend a lot lately," said Kim. "You even went to church last Sunday, but you didn't sit with me. Do you know how embarrassing that is?" "I know what's going on," she said. I knew that she didn't have a clue. "Why can't we sit down and talk about this?" she asked. "Okay, Kim," I said. "Let's talk. Go ahead." "Well, I've heard some talk around town. They've said that you've done some great things for the church. You've gotten a lot of men who stopped attending the services to come back. I even heard that the Reverend's wife somehow influenced you to do something. At first, I thought that maybe you had something going on with Lilly Pile..." I started laughing. "She is pretty, John," she said. "I could see a man wanting her." "Not me," I said. "I'd much rather be with you than her. That woman is a snake." Kim smiled at that. "But I also heard that you've been talking to Jane Foster," she said. "And the next thing I know women all over town are talking about her getting her hair done this morning. And she bought an outfit for church too. So now Lilly Pile made a special appointment to get her hair done and her blond dye job touched up and she bought a new dress too. I'm not an idiot John. You have something going on with that Jane Foster don't you?" "Kim, I have never cheated on you with anyone, Jane Foster and Reverend Pile's psychotic wife included. I have never so much as kissed either one of them, or had any kind of sex with either of them," I said. "I have been completely faithful to you for the entirety of our marriage." I looked her straight in the eye. And as our eyes made contact, I think she realized that I knew. She couldn't hold my gaze and she ran upstairs crying. I spoke to the Reverend once more late Saturday afternoon. I told him that since the choir was going to be at our church the next day, he might want to really dress up his sermon. "Why?" he asked. "Well, since they're kind of famous, there will probably be a few reporters from the papers and the news channels there," I said. Both he and his lizard-like wife were practically salivating. I guess pride really does go before a fall. "Can you get to the church early tomorrow?" I asked. "Why?" he asked again. I could see he was enthralled at the chance to be on TV or in the papers. "So I can detail your Caddy to make it look like the car a man of your status should be driving," I said. "Excellent idea John," he said smiling. "That will make it perfect." As he turned to leave, his wife grabbed my arm in her iron grip. "I've heard you worked your miracle," she hissed and smiled at me. As she leaned up to tell me, I noticed that one of her boney hips pushed its way against my dick which stayed soft. "I'm really going to enjoy tomorrow, but perhaps the next day, you and I should have a little talk, say around lunch time?" She pressed a piece of paper into my hand. "Call me first and we can arrange to meet. But keep this between the two of us, okay?" "Yes ma'am," I said smiling. "Holy shit," I thought. The bitch was as bad as her husband. Everything was in place. I called my lawyer to make sure he was ready on his end. I slept on the sofa that night and Kim didn't question it. I was sure I heard her alternately crying and praying all through the night, but it was far too late for either. No amount of tears or praying could help us. Sunday Morning I was nervous as hell but as excited as hell too. Church services started at 9 am, but I was there by 7. When I arrived, the preacher's Caddy was already there with an angry chauffer sitting on it smoking cigarette after cigarette. He'd parked it right beside the side door of the church. There was barely room to get the car's door open without scraping the side of the church. I'd brought some of my car washing supplies with me. My goal was to quickly detail the caddy and then go home and change. I didn't need the chauffer there before church started. As I walked up to him, he glared at me and I laughed in his face. "Why are you laughing at me," he smirked. "You're just as much his flunky as I am, but you don't even get paid for it." He was staring at me with that smug, "I fucked your wife look." I smiled right back at him. A few moments later, right on schedule, Jason came around the side of building and spoke to him. Jason was one of the guys I had working with me. His job was to distract Bobby. They left together. Bobby had a terrible habit of smoking and just dropping his matches and his cigarette butts everywhere. As I looked at the car there were already three or four butts around the car and it wasn't even 8 am yet. I needed to keep him away from the car until church started. I poured some of my special wax onto a rag and smeared it liberally all over the car. I rubbed it in polishing as I went. I put the same special polish on the car's rubber tires and every exposed surface. Normally, I do the interior of a car first. But in this case I wanted to make sure that I had enough to do the entire outside of the car so I did it first. After that I smeared what was left over on some of the interior surfaces. The car looked like shit. I went back over it again and as the polish dried it did become a bit shinier. By the time I was ready to quit it looked the way it had when I first started. It almost looked like I hadn't done anything. The tires and rims were definitely shinier though. They looked great. I figured the Reverend would notice that if he didn't notice anything else. As I collected my stuff, I noticed a run-down pickup truck pulling into the parking lot. Grant got out of one side of the truck and waved at me. His wife, whose name I couldn't remember got out of the other side. Then things got fuzzy and I almost fell over. I swear to God I thought I saw an angel getting out of the run-down truck. It was Janie and she looked beautiful. Her hair was all done up in a wave of chestnut ringlets that cascaded down her back, nearly to her tiny waist. As I stared at her with my mouth open, she got closer and closer until she was standing right in front of me. I just stared at her. She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen in my life. All of a sudden I noticed that she was actually talking to me. "...Hear a word I said, did you?" she asked. I just smiled at her. And she started talking again. "So are you going to do it?" she asked. "Do what?" I asked her back. She looked frustrated and started growling at me. "I got all dolled up like this and came into this place where they're all going to be staring at me and calling me all kinds of names," she said. "I'm not religious in the least. I haven't been to church in so many years I can't even remember when. I'm not doing this shit to save my soul. I'm doing it because you asked me to. So before I step into that hornet's nest, the least you could do is kiss me." She put a hand on her hip and stared at me. My body wanted to kiss her. My body wanted to do more than kiss her. But my brain told me that if I did that, if I started anything here, I'd be just as bad as Kim, the preacher, his crusty assed wife and all the rest of them. As if she could read my thoughts, she spoke. "John, you didn't start any of this, they did. Kim is a grown woman. She had a choice. If the two of you were happy, I'd never have said a word, but..." I grabbed her then and took her gently in my arms. I pressed my lips tentatively against hers. I kissed her gently but she grabbed my head and pressed her mouth more firmly against mine and her tongue inserted itself between my lips. I could feel her warmth through the white linen of her dress and my erection threatened to rip its way through my jeans. Jesus Please Forgive Me "Oh yeah, that was worth waiting all of these years for," she said. "Sorry," I said. "I tried not to mess up your make-up. Your lipstick is all smeared." "Mess it up some more," she said. "I'll redo it in the ladies room or the truck." "Janie, we'll have plenty of time for that when church is over," I said. "I promise." "You're serious aren't you?" she asked. "My brother is going to try to stay married, but you..." I shook my head. "With the way I'm feeling about you right now, I'm probably a hypocrite, but I want a divorce," I said. "I'll see you later ma'am," I said. I swatted her gently on her ass. "Hey, who said you could do that?" she asked. "Me," I said. "Okay, just checking," she said. "Hurry back." "Janie, remember when the choir leaves the church you need to get the hell out of there ASAP," I said. She just nodded her head. Barely an hour later, here we are. The Reverend looks nervous and notices for the first time that the reporters and their cameramen are taking pictures and video of everything that's going on. Even as he catches his first glimpse of the big video screen behind him, he senses that he's in trouble. He motions to Bobby to get the car ready, just in case he needs to make a quick exit. The visiting choir is whipping the crowd into a frenzied state, just as the images and sounds start to pour from the sound system. The lead vocalist launches into the song's second verse while the rest of the choir gyrates and dances along to the raucous music. I'm there, waving my arms around and pointing at the video screen and clapping my hands in time to the music, like an insane cheerleader. And I am cheering. And I am cheerful, and gleeful. My cheer is for the end of the bullshit and hopefully the end of this asinine church and its officers. They're the ones who need forgiveness, not me. Fuck them all. "On my knees beside my bed," sings the vocalist. Her backup singers punctuate each of her phases with," Liar, liar, liar." "I'm sorry for the things I said" she screams. "Liar, liar, liar." "I've washed the sheets a million times," she sings. "Liar, liar, liar." "I'm payin' for my crime," she sings mournfully. By this time, the entire audience is staring at the images of the Reverend and the deacon engaged in sexual acts with several of the women from the congregation. The women are shocked and begin screaming for the video to be shutdown. Angry voices, most belonging to men, start screaming too. The men are outraged and angry. "Oh, Jesus, please forgive me," sings the choir, as the reporters film every second of it. "Oh, Jesus, please forgive me," they sing, as the Reverend stares at me and heads for the door but finds his way blocked. "Oh, Jesus, please forgive me," sings the choir, as Kim looks my way with tears running down her cheeks as she watches herself taken anally by the Reverend on the video screen. He pounds her brutally all the while smiling his Cheshire cat-like smile. She looks away because she knows that Jesus may forgive her. In fact, Jesus will forgive her. But the son of God is divine. I, on the other hand, being only a pitiful flawed human being; I lack the capacity for things like that. So even hoping that I will ever forgive her is wasted. "You fucking bastard," screams the preacher's wife in a voice so loud it drowns out both the AV system and the choir. That loud voice galvanizes the crowd. And as one they surge towards the preacher and the deacon. The Reverend leaps for the side door and again finds his way blocked by my guys. He fights his way through them, clawing and screaming but only finds the door locked. My guys were supposed to let him get through. Two of them have already left the church and are waiting outside. I look across the large room and see the choir filing outside. I nod my head at Janie and she leaves just behind the choir. I slip out the door that the choir came in through and it is shut behind me. This is when my plan starts to fail. I never realized that the people inside the church would be so angry. My men have also decided to mutiny. My entire plan was for the Reverend to be embarrassed in front of the whole town. He'd have to step down as minister and he'd be sanctioned by the body who gave him his authority. Apparently though, several of my guys had decided that I was being too soft on him. They wanted a bit of old school justice and they had prepared for it. All they needed to do was to get the rest of the congregation to go along with it. But from the screams inside of the church, they too had underestimated the anger level that the crowd and the preacher's wife had reached. It sounded as if they were trying to tear the preacher and the deacons, limb from limb. They apparently even went after the deacons who were innocent. Outside of the church, a few cameramen watched, as the choir got back on their bus and drove off, still singing. They were booked at another church in an hour. I walked around to the side of the church and saw Bobby sitting on the car. He got out his cigarettes and smiled. I smiled back at him. "What the fuck are you smiling about?" he asked. Janie came up behind me and put her hand on my shoulder. "I know that you fucked Kim too," I said. His movements slowed down and he watched me warily. "So, what are you going to do about it," he said nervously. He struck the match and I could already see the fumes as the hot sun beat down on the car. I backed away, pushing Janie behind me. "Nothing," I said, continuing to back away from him. "You'll be getting what you deserve like it says in the bible. Only yours is going to be really fucking soon." A couple of my guys came over then. And there were a few people following them. Bobby dropped the match he held in his hands, the same way he always did. The flames shot up so quickly that it was almost like an explosion. The polish I'd used on the preacher's car had been one third Turtle wax Ice, one third gasoline and the last third had been mostly chemical accelerants to make sure the car had burned completely. I had probably overdone it. The entire car went up in flames and far faster than I'd ever thought. I'd been right to worry about how close the church was to the car, but I never thought that the church would catch on fire from the car. Bobby's earsplitting scream drew the attention of everyone in the area. He ran towards me still on fire. "Stop, drop and roll," I yelled. He dropped to the ground in front of me frantically rolling. At that point the flames were only on his clothes. "Bobby, I lied," I said. He continued to beat at the flames. "I once told you that I wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire," I said. I unzipped my pants and pulled out my equipment and peed all over him. It did help some. Most of the flames went out. He was still screaming some as he lay there. That was when I kicked him in the nuts. "I changed my mind about not doing anything about you fucking Kim, too," I said. As the flames on the church got higher, the people inside started running out of both doors. I noticed a bunch of men dragging the preacher and the deacon out of the building just as the fire trucks and the Sheriff arrived. The Sheriff only had one deputy and there was no way they could calm that crowd down. I walked past the Sheriff as the crowd dragged the preacher over to where a large vat of tar was being heated. Mercifully they weren't using boiling tar, the way they did in the old days. "No," screamed the preacher as they flung him bodily into the large vat of the black rubbery tar. The tar was hot enough that it wasn't comfortable and he screamed even louder as he landed in it. He was lucky that he was able to keep his head out of it. His skin, wherever the tar touched, turned bright red as if he'd been scalded. He quickly leaped out of the vat screaming at the top of his lungs. Three other men threw feathers at him and rolled him around on the ground. His wife kicked him in the ass and spat on him. Then he got loose and ran away as fast as he could go. He was lucky again, because in the old days they'd have taken his clothes off. He probably would have died. The deacons got the same treatment. By that time, the fire department had most of the blaze under control. There were several angry men screaming at their wives, including all of my guys. I led Janie to my car. Just as we got there, Kim headed towards me with a pleading look on her face. A woman from out of town stepped between us. She was a slim, younger woman with blond hair. She cracked her gum as she spoke to Kim. I couldn't hear exactly what they said but I saw Kim nod her head. And then the woman handed her a large envelope that contained the divorce papers my lawyer had prepared. Kim started crying loudly and a few of the women from the church went over to her. She looked at me with a pleading look, but I just shook my head, got into the car and drove away. I dropped Janie off at her place. She leaned into the car after she got out. "Why are you just sitting there?" she asked. "Aren't you coming in?" "Nope," I said. And her face fell. "I should have known," she said. I looked at her crazily. I got out of the car and went around to her. "What should you have known?" I asked. "That you were just like everybody else," she said. "At least you didn't try to fuck me before you left." "Only because we need to get on the road," I said. "But when we stop at a hotel tonight, who knows." "Huh?" she asked. "Janie, I brought you home so you could grab a few things and make a few calls. I'm going to go home and do the same. Then we're leaving. We're getting the hell out of this town." The smile she gave me lit up my black leather interior. She kissed me again and as she walked towards her house, there was definitely more swaying in her hips. I headed the car home. I packed as many items of clothing as I thought I could get into the Mustang's, less than roomy, trunk. That would leave the back seat for Janie's stuff. Anything that I couldn't fit now, I'd have to come back for. I guess I could have packed more quickly, but I really wanted to give Kim the chance to come home. I didn't want her to think that I'd just snuck away without her having a chance to talk to me. I saw her car pull into the driveway. I grabbed some of my grooming stuff and my iPad and walked slowly towards the door. She opened it and stepped in just as I got to it. "So how long have you been fucking the town whore?" she said slowly. "Apparently, ever since YOU said "I Do," I quipped. She shrank away from the anger in my voice. She sniffled and wiped away a tear. I pushed her down onto the sofa and handed her a tissue. "Kim, do you actually know anyone who's slept with Janie?" I asked. She looked at me and started to say something, but stopped. "On the other hand, I know of at least three men that you've had sex with while we've been married," I said. "But, you sleeping with her, makes us even," she said. "I haven't slept with her," I said. "So, go ahead," she said. "I saw the two of you while they were assaulting the Reverend. It looked like the two of you were going to burst into flames because you were so hot for each other. She's a really pretty girl. I know you want her. And it looks like she wants you too. So go ahead and have yourself a fling with her and when it runs its course..." "Kim, she's had a crush on me for more than ten years. I don't think it's going to run its course," I said. "Oh..." she said sadly. "And even if it does or even when it does..." I said. "There's no hope for us," she said. I shook my head. "But you love me," she said. "And I love you too. I love you more than any other man on..." "But you didn't love me enough to say no to..." I began. "John, that was only..." she began. "Kim, please don't say that it was only sex," I snapped. "I was going to say, that it was only something I had to do for the church and the community," she said. "The Reverend has needs too. And as a man of God, I thought that I was..." she started crying then. "I was such as fool wasn't I?" she said. "He really wasn't a good man. He just used me didn't he?" "He used a lot of people," I said. "Then, why are we the only ones getting a divorce?" she asked. "Maybe it's because it's the right thing for US to do," I said. "Kim you're a good woman. I loved you with all of my heart. But even before I found out about this, things had been going south for us. Your obsession with religion and charity work over the past couple of years was only a symptom of our problems, not the whole story. You need to find someone who shares your interest in religion and doing good works." "And you need to find someone to raise hell with, right?" she asked bitterly. "No, Kimmie," I said. "I just need someone who loves me enough to put me first. I wouldn't have cared if you needed to go to church every God damned day. As long as you were mine, it would have been fine. I didn't mind sharing you with God. But the preacher, the deacon and that fucking chauffer were just too much." She nodded. "You get the house," I said. "I'll leave you some money. If you need more, or you figure out what you want to do...Sell it and move on. I'm going to." I kissed her on her forehead and moved on into my new life. A few moments later, I drove up to Janie's house. I knocked on the door. I heard her brother's voice telling me to come in. When I walked into the living room, I saw Grant watching a replay of the Phoenix 500 NASCAR race. His plump wife was kneeling between his spread thighs with her head bobbing up and down. "Hey John," he said. His wife turned to look at me in embarrassment. "Who told you to stop?" he asked angrily. "But I don't want anyone to see me su..." she began. "Don't worry about it Maybelle," I said. "I'm family. I won't tell anyone about it." Grant looked at me crazily and smiled. "Go get me another beer woman," he said. "John, I'd consider you a best friend, but I'm not sure I'd go as far as to say family..." "Even though I'm marrying your sister...?" I asked. He started laughing just as Janie came into the room. She was carrying a suitcase and a garbage bag full of what looked like clothes. "Who said I wanted to marry you, John?" she asked. I was about to answer but Grant got to her first. "You did dummy," he said. "Ever since you were able to write, you wrote Jane Smith on so many God damned notebooks that you didn't have room for your homework. Every time one of your own brothers farted near you, you threatened us with John and..." "Nobody asked you, asshole," she snapped. "I was talking to John." She came over and put her hand in mine. "I..." I began. But before I could even add another syllable, she kissed me. "Okay, Damn, stop begging," she said. "I'll marry you. Shit, you've only asked me a thousand times." I looked at her crazily. "When did I...?" "Every night, in my dreams," she said. "So where are we going?" I shrugged my shoulders. "Where do you want live?" "Anywhere but here," she smiled, dragging me out of the door and into our future. Epilog Janie and I finally settled in Chicago. We got along great and we did get married. All women are different. Each one is like a new and unique treasure that nature has placed here. But they all have their issues too. I guess I should have known it from the start but Janie's was obsession. She'd been crazy about me since she was a kid, so she wasn't going to do anything to lose me. At the same time, she was so jealous it was nuts. I got a great new job and she immediately took a disliking to my secretary. Hilda was 68 years old and almost ready for retirement. Janie showed up at work on an almost daily basis to check on me. Hilda thought it was cute. She was flattered that a woman as young and pretty as Janie would consider her a threat. When Hilda did retire, Janie became my new secretary. That meant that we were together 24/7. So we all know what that led to. Yep, it led to pregnancy. So, two years after we'd left home, we went back for a visit so our daughter Helen could meet her uncles. The town had pretty much the same look, but it felt different. The church had never been rebuilt. I asked Grant about it. He shooed Maybelle away long enough to tell me the story. "She's still doing that?" I asked. "I can't get her to stop," he said. "She got so good at it, that I couldn't help it. I started telling people about it. She gives the best blow jobs in the fucking world. I've never seen a porno movie queen who can match her and she loves it. The bitch has me under control. I buy her anything she wants and take her anywhere she wants or she threatens to stop." "But what about her church work and all of that?" I asked. "We haven't been to church since you left town," he laughed. "Maybelle was only doing the church thing because she wanted to be needed and appreciated." "And is she appreciated?" I asked. Maybelle came back into the room swinging her big ass from side to side and handed Gant a beer. "Oh yeah," she said smiling. "He appreciated me so God damned much that you're going to be an uncle soon." "So, what about the church?" I asked. "And the preacher?" "Both the preacher and the deacons were run out of town. They had some pretty serious burns from the tar and feathering. The preacher's wife and the deacons' wives divorced them and took them for everything they had. He lost his ordination and can't preach anymore. Last I heard, he was living two towns over and returning soda bottles for a living." "There are two churches in town now. One church is led by the old preacher's wife and the other that YOUR ex runs. Those bitches hate each other. They both claim that anyone who goes to the other's church is on the fast track to hell. They both also look like hell. And, of course, they both blame YOU for their misery. Mrs. Pendergast says that Kim is a whore, and if she hadn't been fucking the Reverend, none of this would have happened. Kim says that the Reverend was the devil in disguise, and if his wife had been paying attention, he couldn't have tricked her and she'd still have a happy marriage. Any time the two of them meet, a fight breaks out. It's gotten so bad that hardly anyone goes to church anymore; unless you call NASCAR and football, church." The end