Souls - III

I used to be a preacher, a Pentecostal one. It was a small little church in Dearborn, Missouri, but I guess small kinda goes without saying. I mean, you ever hear of a gigantic Pentecostal church?

Now that I look back on it, we were less of a church than an instituted family that sat around three times a week and discussed fire and brimstone. I know we spouted the typical “God is good” and “Trust it to the Lord”,  but the real focus was on the darkness, on the punishment. I’m not sure what it is about Pentecostals, and Christianity as a whole really, but they seem real intent on making our existence a tribulation. Life wasn’t a gift, it was a test; and a damn hard one at that.

I think that’s why I backslid, that’s what they call it when you lose the faith. It was quite the hubbub, the local preacher goin’ off and doin’ some ungodly things. Truth was, I just got tired. I wanted to wear some shorts, I wanted to listen to pop radio. I mean, we’re supposed to be fightin’ the Devil and our best approach is to avoid him? Seems like something military strategy wouldn’t approve of.  Like that fella Sun Tzu said “know thyself, know thy enemy”.

Anyhow, I did all that and I saw a new version of the truth. There was no damnation, there was no lightning bolts striking me down, the world just kept turning wether my knees were exposed or not.  My truth became fractured from my church’s truth, I had to leave. I moved to Kansas City and started working where I could, odd jobs here and there.

The funny thing is I still think of my Pentecostal family, I wonder where they’re holed up, how they’re taking all this, and most of all I wonder what'd they think of my boss. They talked about him three times a week, talked about his dominion, but I doubt they pictured him quite so pragmatic. I’d like to introduce the two someday.

I sigh, standing from the bed and put my bra back on, strapping the gals back into oblivion. Ignoring the pain, I slip on my shirt, my jacket, and my fedora and glance in the mirror. Look like a real life P.I., or at least like a made-up version of a real life P.I., either way it worked for me.

Grabbing the case of souls, I head out into the new world. The one so foreign from the one I knew in Dearborn, Missouri.

For one, there’s no sky now.