Thursday, January 28, 2010

Jesus loves you, but I will call 911 on your crazy ass...

I've met some of the craziest people parading in the name of Jesus.

I can say that free of guilt because it's my blog and nobody's reading it anyway. Plus I don't care, so there's that.

My first encounter with a Geezus demon was at bible camp circa 1992.

"Why the f*ck were you at bible camp, Costa?" you may wanna be asking.
Well, they had the best coffee in all of Western PA. Or, I was trying to get close to something. And I did. His name was Bob and he was possessed. With what, I'm not sure, but he was creepy. And like many creepy people he had a big ass crush on me.

His eyes glowed an eerie red and his teeth were like candy corn. He took to me instantly. He walked right up to me and held my tiny hand. His was sweaty and evil. I was paralyzed with fear. He said angry things and scared a lot of us. I just wanted to run back to my cabin and have a beer with my younger sister. That's why SHE was attending bible camp. She was passed out though because it doesn't take much beer to knock a child out. And when you're at bible camp you tend to drink faster in fear of being caught. So I was stuck alone with him by the campfire until my friend found me. When she did I told her we need to get him to a camp counselor and have him exterminated. I wasn't privy to the christian vocabulary. I was merely a child from the 'hood, a mistruster from way back, trying to find some truth.

As he stood there speaking in tongues, rambling some crazy sh*t, eyes getting glassy and all, I did the only thing I could think of. I took off running as fast as I could, and despite what my soccer coach said I could run pretty fast. I hid for the next two days. Mostly in the shower area. I had my sister and friend bring me meals. When it was time to depart from camp I jumped on the bus and never looked back. I don't have a clue as to what ever happened to Bob.

Another Geezus creep came shortly after my departure from Bob. This little disciple attended the church that sent me to bible camp. Like Bob, he fell for me, fast and hard. And unfortunately HE knew where I lived. He'd show up on weekends and stand in front of our house with his arms held high, praying, I suppose. He thought if he prayed hard enough I'd come out and marry him, or date him, or hold his hand. I stood from the door and yelled, "FREAK!". Persistent, as most of that faith are, he insisted on ignoring my pleas for him to leave and kept his arms held to the sky, begging Jesus to bring me out.

Finally, after feeling sequestered in our home for most of March, my Mom had enough and took a broom and a pot outside and told him to get the hell away from the house. He never returned.

As for me, I stopped attending church. I traded in my bible for a pack of Newport 100's and, kids, the rest is history...


Blythe Landry said...

Wow, Costa, no Jesus figures every loved me; in fact, it was always the opposite, like whores, prostitutes, leapers, people who didn't pay their know the drill....
I mean, but, really, come to think of it, those people, the "second-stringers," so-to-speak, were the people who hung with the old J, actually.., what? Maybe Jesus look-alikes loved you, but, um, the Jesus followers loved me, so you do the math...what?

Chrissy Costa said...

i don't know if i should feel insulted or say thank you. what?