Blasphemous Shorthand
November 2, 2009
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Fr?
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Yes
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Hi, it’s been 22 yrs since my last confession
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Sorry, no IM’d confessions. Please visit the church between 6-7 PM next Saturday.
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R u still there
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Yes
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Make an exception
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Sorry, no.
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I need u to make an exception
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I don’t take confessions over IM, sorry.
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Why
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I am not going to absolve your sins over IM. You must come into the church next Saturday between 6 & 7.
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I can’t.
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You must.
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I can’t.
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You must.
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I can’t move Fr.
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Are you disabled? We have services for you.
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I don’t have a disability.
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See you on Saturday then.
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R u still there
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Yes.
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Give me a chance to explain.
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K
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Before the onset of my current…affliction, I was a competitive bodybuilder
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W
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Before the onset of my current affliction, I could squat a school bus.
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J
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Fr, are u just randomly typing letters, or are u really listening to me?
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W & J are expressions of astonishment and surprise, son. “Wow!” Jeeps!”
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Fr, to avoid confusion please use OMG to express astonishment and surprise.
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I will not participate in blasphemous shorthand.
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K
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Thx
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Fr it’s been a long time since I squatted a school bus.
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That doesn’t require absolution son.
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No, it doesn’t but I believe this is the only way for me to get the bus back on my back.
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Why is it so important to perform this physical improbability?
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Forget the bus Fr. The bus is really not important. I can’t even carry a backpack in my current condition.
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See a Dr.
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I can’t.
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I’m losing patience. Are u looking for pity? Or absolution?
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Fr., on earth does the force of gravity affect everyone the same?
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Gravity is outside of my area of expertise.
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Well it does. Except now gravity is squeezing me harder than other people. I feel no pain, I feel no pressure, I’m not tired, or sick, yet I can only move with the greatest of effort. The force pressing on me is unnatural and therefore, must be a rebuke from God. Hence the need for confession.
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Go on.
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I’m beyond sluggish Fr. I’m stuck in some strange God-decreed, gravity-sap.
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Keep going.
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But u see, gravity-sap doesn’t convey how lousy I feel. Fr. imagine a sausage as it’s grilled on a warm summer day. It sizzles, it pops, it browns. Its molecular life is dancing Fr., literally dancing above the grill flame. Before Fr., the sausage was limp, pale, dull and lifeless. Now, these flames invigorate the sausage. The flames transform it into a wicked swarthy sausage. Fr. do u understand?
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No
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Stay with me Fr. The sausage is removed from the grill flame and placed in a toasted roll slick with butter. One would think that the butter lubricates the sausage, right Fr.?
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?
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One would be wrong Fr., the butter doesn’t lubricate the sausage Fr., but attaches to it. The butter sends thousands of nano-pincers into the sausage’s skin securing it to the roll and itself. The sausage is less free, Fr. Soon, it is covered in onions, peppers, possibly horseradish. But this is okay, the proper course, the natural course, has been followed, Fr. Until now. From above. The sky above the sausage darkens. A great mass gathers. In seconds, Fr., the sausage is smothered beneath 64 ounces of ketchup. Thus spake the Lord.
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Fr.?
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Fr.? Are u still there
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Hi
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So Fr.? Do you understand?
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Hi.
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Fr.?
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Hi
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What is wrong with u?
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Trying not to lie.
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What are u talking about?
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Sorry, this is Sandra.
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Who? What the fuck is going on here?
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Don’t u use that language with me. I’m Sandra, Fr.’s receptionist. Fr. had to step away and asked that I sit here and be responsive.
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I’m in the middle of my confession, and Fr. steps away? I will have him excommunicated.
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I thought my confession was sacred and could not be shared with anyone but God and my priest?
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I think it is. Hold on here he comes, bye!
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Fr.
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Yes
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You soiled the bond between confessor and confessee.
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I was hungry
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What are u eating
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Doritos
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So the church now sanctions the eating of snacks in the confessional?
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I’m not in the confessional. I’m in my office.
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Not true, Fr. The confessional is not a hollow box in a dusty church, but a deep bond between man, priest, and god.
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Listen Luther. You’ve confessed nothing so far other than that your life has become vapid and crapulent and you’re unable to take an invigorating walk to the church. If you want to discuss feelings, go to therapist. If you want to get rid of the slurry on your soul, come into the church and admit to your flaws and misdeeds.
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Church sucks I’m not going
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Why do u resent the church?
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It’s where she left me
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Ah, u were jilted.
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Don’t use that fucking word with me Fr. I swear to you, the day this gravity-sap loosens its grip on me, I will come down to the rectory
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Calm down son.
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And punch u, no forget u, the receptionist I’ll come down there and punch your receptionist right in the nose.
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Her nose will heal, your soul will not.
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I was not jilted! I am not some spindly maiden whose image of herself is a mirror cracking. I am the Spanish Galleon!
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Calm down.
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You can’t jilt the cock and balls!
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Pride. The tip of the spear of sin son.
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U’ve heard of people imagining their own funerals?
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In moments of self-pity, yes, everyone has done that.
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I got to see mine in real time, Fr.
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She hurt you
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We would wax each other. We would. We were smooth and hairless. And tan. She would spray me and I would spray her. Now, I have no one. You cannot spray your body tan by yourself. You need a partner, you need a love.
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Are u feeling dangerous?
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O Fr. Please. I’m in no condition to start up some homoerotic dalliance with a priest over the internet.
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U misunderstand me. R u a danger to yourself or others?
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I don’t think so, no. I want to get better.
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Tell me what happened
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Simple. She met a man with a big job.
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Men with big jobs exist.
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Fuck men with big jobs Fr.
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Is this what you told her to do?
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What? Don’t be a smartass, I’m hurting here.
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Sorry
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Men with big jobs don’t know how to live. They’re slaves. And u’re right. They exist everywhere.
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As do envious men, with little or no jobs.
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I’m pouring out my soul to you.
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You haven’t. You told me what happened to you. Not what you did to cause it.
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Doesn’t she bare any responsibility?
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Not in the confessional she doesn’t.
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I wanted her too much. I loved her too deeply
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C’mon, this isn’t a job interview
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I didn’t take care of her. I ignored what she wanted.
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Well, that’s a beginning.
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Fr., I feel better already. This is remarkable. Hold on. I just took my slippers off. And I think Fr., that I will be able to wear shoes again soon.
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That’s good son. Now for penance, you must come into the church next Saturday between 6&7 and do a real confession.
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What?!
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Yes, c u then.
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The Cup of Procrastination:
One of the most complete pieces I have ever read. This is so good, through and through. You never lose focus, you never lose characters, and you never stray from this moment where pop culture and lost culture join. Thank you for a most lovely read.
my friend and i have a saying: what happens in g-chat stays in g-chat. i hope the priests of the world concur.
In the young history of 30pov, I would just like to say that these are thus far best lines ever written i/on it:
That is all.
~e.c.r.
What a great read! BRAVO!