W.A.R. 5-3 Enemy Territory

W.A.R. Part Five - Retaliation

(2nd edition)

Chapter Three - Enemy Territory

by Jeff Wilson

I woke up early Saturday morning on my back, naked and spread eagle with Brett's naked body draped on top of me. He loved being as close to me as possible. His head was resting on my chest. His left arm laid across my belly and his left leg was between my legs. I lay there for a while, just listening to the gentle sound of his breathing and feeling his heart beating against me. I lightly caressed his back, causing him to stir. I never wanted that morning to end. I just wanted to hold my now sixteen-year-old boyfriend in my arms like that forever.

Brett snuggled closer toward me. I continued to caress the small of his back. He worked his way up, so that his head was no longer on my chest but was resting on my shoulder. I gently kissed him and lightly stroked from the small of his back down to his ass and back again, slowly and softly. Brett hugged me around my chest and lightly played with my right nipple. He pulled himself up towards me and we kissed each other, then he worked his way down to my belly and tickled gently around my belly button. He kissed me there and all around my smooth belly as he worked lower still until he came to my dick. Then he lightly licked the underside of my dick from my balls up to the tip. My eyes rolled to the back of my head. He kissed his way down all six inches of my dick, and then gently licked my balls. Then he hooked his hands under the backs of my knees and pushed my legs up toward my chest, exposing my asshole. I knew what he was going to do and prepared myself.

Without saying a word, he lowered himself beneath me. I closed my eyes and felt the tickle of his scruffy teenage attempted-beard under my ass. Then I felt the warm wetness of his tongue on my asshole again. This time, however, I didn't recoil in disgust. I allowed Brett's tongue and the tickle of his scruffy chin to take me to a place of sexual intimacy previously unimagined in my sixteen-year-old mind. I almost came from the overwhelming pleasure of it all. I'd never experienced anything like it before. After a few blissful moments, Brett came up for air. I saw his beautiful blue eyes peering up at me.

"So what did you think of that?" he asked.

"I think I've been an idiot for missing out on that," I replied.

"I'm gonna fuck you," he insisted. "I have to."

"That's good because I need you to fuck me," I replied.

He opened the drawer of the nightstand and grabbed the lube he'd bought for us and slathered up his dick. Brett liked to be face to face when he fucked me, so I grabbed my knees and pulled them toward my chest, giving him complete access to my hole. Brett reached down between our bodies and guided his dick into my hole. It was always cute to watch his face get all serious and determined as he fumbled around attempting to find the right spot.

Once he found my entrance, he slid slowly into my body. Brett's dick is almost the same length as mine, but it's a little thicker. It's really nice. It's not veiny, or ugly, or anything like that. It has a nice shape, and it's nice and straight with a perfectly shaped head. It's just a beautiful dick, and it was all mine! He was always gentle and very sweet when he fucked me. He would let loose when he bottomed, but he always looked so serious when he topped. He would watch my face for any sign that I was in discomfort. He would stop and pull out ever so slightly before he would push again, until I had taken his whole dick. Brett wasn't as aggressive as I was when he topped. I tended to go fast and hard and lose control of myself as I plowed away at his ass until I came. Brett liked to be intimate. He would hold hands or gently caress my cheek and he loved to kiss me all over. There wasn't a single square inch of me that he hadn't licked, sucked, or kissed. He tried so hard to keep things going, but the poor guy was always a quick shooter. The longest he went when he topped was about three minutes. He just couldn't help himself. He gently caressed my cheek with his hand and then kissed me. He was impossibly adorable! I relaxed my legs and Brett embraced me as he worked up a slow rhythm of thrusting with his hips. We closed our eyes and just held each other's body close as we made love. I loved feeling his body so close to me as much as I enjoyed feeling his dick inside me. I hugged him tightly, feeling his warm naked body become increasingly warm as he fucked me. It was impossible to be any closer to another person than we were to each other, and I'm not just talking about him being inside me. Brett increased the pace and the force of his thrusts, causing the bed to squeak and the headboard to bang the wall again with each movement. I opened my eyes and just enjoyed the look of sheer joy and pleasure on Brett's sweet face. Brett opened his eyes and smiled at me. I lost myself in his deep blue eyes.

"I just came," he whispered softly.

"Really?" I asked. He hadn't given me any indication that he was so close.

"Yeah," he replied. "You're on the pill, right?"

"No," I said.

"Oh shit! I came inside you! My sperm is in you and now you're going to get pregnant!" he said with mock seriousness. I really loved how he was the same joker he always was, even when we were being intimate. He pulled out of me and I felt his hot juice leak out of my ass down to my bedsheets. I lowered my legs and we just lay there for a while in a warm embrace, him on top of me. He rested his head on my shoulder and I felt his warm breath on my skin. Being naked with him next to me was the most amazing feeling in the world. I gently stroked his back and neck as he stroked my chest and belly.

"By the way, that was your birthday present because except for the money we made yesterday I'm broke," I told him.

"That's okay. You don't need to buy me anything, you know that. I just love this. I could seriously not leave this bed today," Brett sighed. He lowered his head down to my chest and pressed his ear against me. "I love hearing your heart beating." He lay there for a while, just listening to my heartbeat as content as could be. "This is nice. This is what I always wanted for us. I mean, I like fucking, but this is almost better than sex."

I squeezed him a little harder and just enjoyed holding him for a while. I agreed with him. Sex is great, but laying there naked with Brett's nude body against me was just as good. "Hey, it's March fifteenth! You know what that means? Not only are you now sixteen years old, you just had your first-ever birthday fuck," I said.

"Yeah, I guess I did!" he replied. "My first fuck as a sixteen-year-old. It was awesome! I love you, babe." He kissed my cheek.

"Not as much as I love you," I said.

He rolled off of me and kicked his feet over the side of the bed. I admired his naked body as he stretched and yawned. "I tried to be quiet."

"That's okay. Nobody heard us. I heard my parents leave earlier."

He stood up and found his boxers. He pulled them up and I watched his ass slip from my view. "Really? I would have been a lot louder if I'd have known that!"

"I liked it quiet like that. I thought it was really sweet. Sometimes I forget how cute you are. I've got to fix this headboard, though," I said. I rolled onto my belly and reached down to tighten the bolts. "It's kind of obvious what's going on in here with this thing banging the wall."

"At least your parents care enough to be concerned that you're getting laid. My mom doesn't give a shit about me," Brett said. "I swear she finds new excuses to not be home with me. She says she's working on a new book. I say she's just counting the days until she can be rid of me for good. How much you want to bet mom forgets my birthday?"

"I don't think she'll do that."

"Oh, she'll remember it's today, but she'll find some excuse to stay busy at work all day. She always does. Then she'll try to buy something to make up for it next week some time. I swear she's such a cunt."

"Well if she does that, you have my permission to be a dick to her. I'll bet she doesn't, though."

"Oh Billy... Sweet, trusting Billy... Always looking for the good in people who are assholes. But hey, that's how I ended up with you! Anyway, I already got the best birthday present ever. I got to make love to you. But if she forgets, I can probably work that into a car at this point. She's running out of things to buy my love with," he said as he pulled on his shirt. "Okay, I've got to take a crap."

"Dude," I laughed. "I did not need to know that!"

Brett opened the door and closed it behind him. I just lay there naked on my bed for a while, basking in the afterglow of two incredible sexual encounters with the most awesome boy in the world. Eventually though, I did get dressed and made my way to the living room. Brett joined me and sat on the couch next to me and snuggled against me.

"Feel better?" I asked.

"Yeah," Brett smiled. "So your mom and dad did head out?" he asked.

"I guess," I replied. "They usually work on Saturdays. I'm surprised dad didn't ask me to come with him."

"Probably because he knew you'd be tired. Probably figured we were screwing each other all night after we went to bed," Brett suggested.

"I seriously doubt that," I said.

"You still think your dad's going to be mad that we're together?" Brett asked.

"I don't know. I really don't want to find out."

"Hey, no matter what, I'm always going to love you," Brett smiled. "That'll never change."

"What if I get all fat and bald?" I asked.

"It'll be okay, I'll be right there with you," he laughed.

"What if I go blind from excessive masturbation?" I asked.

Brett closed his eyes and groped about. "Who said that? I heard you but I can't see you!" he laughed. "Babe seriously, I masturbate enough for both of us. I love my dick! I'm like a fucking monkey with it. I can't remember a day when I haven't spanked it."

"Yeah, me too," I admitted. "That was seriously the worst part about busting my hand up. I just can't do it properly right-handed." I looked at the faded scars on the back of my left hand from both the mirror glass and the surgery. My hand still wasn't back to normal. It was really sore and stiff after all the shoveling I'd done. I did some of my rehab exercises on it to loosen it up a bit while Brett made breakfast. I found myself doing more and more things right-handed because it hurt too much to do them the proper left-handed way. Sometimes my hand just hurt for no good reason at all. I was even learning to write with my right hand which felt so very wrong, like I was betraying my fellow lefties. I figured I would probably need more work done on it when I got older. It wasn't like it hurt all the time, but I could definitely tell that I'd over-done it.

We spent the rest of the morning playing video games. Again, I was never as dexterous as right-handed players because video game controllers are made for right-handed people. But my hand still didn't want to cooperate completely sometimes because of the damage I'd caused myself. We only stopped playing when Brett's mom called him. He talked with her for a few minutes and then told me he had to go home.

"I bet she wants to give you a nice birthday present," I suggested.

"Wrong again, babe," Brett said. "She wants to make sure I make it to mass later. I volunteered to play tonight."

"You volunteered to play the organ on your birthday?" I asked.

"I already played with your organ on my birthday," Brett laughed. "It's not a big deal, really. It's just another day," he said. I think he was trying to convince himself more than anything. "I like any chance I get to play. Hey, thanks for having me over. Your mom and dad are the best. I really appreciate how nice your dad is to me. Can you tell him that?"

"Why don't you tell him?" I asked. "He likes you more than me anyway."

Brett hugged me and then put his hands on my shoulders, looking me in the eye. "You don't realize how lucky you are, Billy. I wish you could see how much your dad loves you."

"I could say the same thing about you and your mom," I replied.

"Sure... Whatever..." Brett said. I followed him to the garage and we kissed before he fired up the four wheeler and drove away. I spent the rest of the day thinking about the fun we'd had. Of course, some of him was still in me! I knew that Dr. Reilly would remember Brett's birthday. Brett was only going to turn sixteen once. I wondered how someone who was so smart could be so absent-minded. But then, people said the same thing about me!

So then Sunday morning came, and mom dragged me out of bed and forced me to go to church with her. Now, it's not like she held a gun to my head or anything. But there were about ten-thousand things I'd have rather done on a Sunday morning than go to church with my mother. But to keep the peace I reluctantly went along. Pastor Stevens wasn't a bad preacher to watch and listen to. It was good theatre really. He'd get himself all worked up into a lather about his sin of the week, bring it all down and tell us all about how God was pissed off about it, but that Jesus would save us if we put enough money in the collection plate, or some shit like that. I don't know, I barely paid attention to what he said and mostly enjoyed the show. There were always people lining up at the altar afterward to be saved. I know mom kept hoping that one Sunday I'd be one of the sheep who lined up for the slaughter. It was almost one of those weird holy-roller churches. If it had a denomination, I didn't know what it was. It had one of those fun names like Church of Eternal Light that doesn't really tell you much about what it's all about. Mom really got into it after dad got sick and the pastor had been so nice to her. Recruited her, I would say. Once things got back to normal at home she started going every week. She was frequently one of the ones at the altar rail week after week, as if God expected her to re-enlist every week. Pastor Stevens had a bunch of kids. I'd honestly lost count of them, but there were at least eight. Most of them were older than me. They didn't go to my school. Pastor Carl's wife home schooled them all.

In general, I'd say everyone was nice, on the surface at least. And that was the thing. I'd watch these people, most of whom I knew outside of church, who would act like such holy people on Sunday morning but who were such insufferable assholes any other time. Every week I'd see Joey McKenzie acting like such a perfect little angel, being complimented on his perfect little life and his neat and tidy appearance and his professional little haircut. But he was a total fraud. He had become a douche bag of major proportions. He'd allowed a little popularity to go right to his head. He'd sleep with any girl who'd spread her legs for him even when he had a girlfriend. I understood more and more why Brett hated phonies, because he could see through their bullshit far more perceptively than I could. Much like Brett couldn't understand why I was still friends with Dustin, I wondered how Brett could still be friends with Joey.

There was a Sunday School thing that my mom expected me to go to before the service that was full of the same pretentious ass hats that I hated going to school with. I always tried to find a way to avoid dealing with them at school. I certainly wasn't going to voluntarily spend an hour with them. I'd usually find a way to avoid going to their stupid little class, and that week was no different. I slipped quietly into the restroom and sat in a stall with a comic book I'd hidden in the bible I'd brought with me. I settled down for a bit of light reading and was doing quite nicely when I heard the door open and two boys talking. I could tell right away that one of them was Joey just by the way he smelled. For as much as I hated the little douche bag I had to admit he was becoming quite the handsome young man.

"Yeah, so it's gonna cost about four hundred dollars or so to do it," I heard Joey say to the other boy. The sound of cigarette lighters and the smell of cigarette smoke filled the room.

"Well shit, that sucks," said the other boy.

"Tell me about it," Joey replied. "But at least it'll be done with. I don't know what the fuck that cunt was thinking. She told me she was on the pill."

"Bitches lie about that shit all the time. At least she's getting rid of it."

"Yeah. At least Angela never got pregnant. Gave me drip-dick once though. Now that hurt! But the clinic gave me a shot in the ass and it cleared right up."

"What a slut!" the other boy laughed. I could tell by his voice that it was Andy, one of Joey's sycophantic phony little hangers-on.

"Yeah. Great tits though. You ever fuck her?" Joey asked.

"No..." Andy laughed nervously.

"Oh, you're not still a virgin are you? God, Andy, you're such a dork. I could arrange it for you to get laid if you wanted. She's always up for it. She'd even let us both fuck her if you wanted. We could have a three-way!"

"With another guy?"

"Sure. I'd be fun. One in the pink and one in the stink," Joey laughed.

"Oh man, that's disgusting!" Andy replied.

"So you want me to call her?" Joey asked.

"Sure, I guess so," Andy said reluctantly. "As long as I get the pussy and not the ass."

"Fucking ass is fun, though. Right, Billy?" Joey asked.

I sat there for a second, realizing that Joey knew I was in there. I figured as long as he knew I was there I might as well acknowledge it.

"Sure, just use lots of lube," I replied.

Joey and Andy laughed. "You're such a fag, Roberts!" Joey said.

"Dude, I didn't even realize he was in there," The other boy replied.

"Yeah," Joey replied. "He must be looking to give head. Hey, Roberts, there's no glory holes in here if that's what you were hoping for, but you might get some under-stall action!"

"Gee, thanks Joe," I replied, amused by the whole thing. "I guess you'd know!"

"Oh, burn, Joe!" Andy laughed. "You just got burned by Roberts!"

"Hey, fuck you," Joey sniped at Andy. "You're a mother fucker, Roberts."

"Just your mother!" I replied. "She said she'd never seen one as big as mine."

"Oh my god, he ripped your mom, Joe!" Andy squealed.

"Hey, shut up, asshole," Joey snapped. "Come on let's let the faggot have his alone time." The smell of cigarette smoke was quickly overpowered by teen body spray, I heard the door open and close, and then I was alone again. I slipped my comic back into my bible and opened the stall door. Almost immediately I was pushed violently backward back into the stall and down onto the toilet. Joey stood over me and pushed me down as I tried to get up. He grabbed my head and pulled me toward the bulge in his crotch.

"Come on faggot!" he threatened. He loosened his pants and pulled them down in front, and then he whipped out his throbbing dick. I'd never seen Joey's dick before. It was thick and menacing. "You want to talk about my mother, you disgusting faggot? Why don't you suck a real man's dick, you cock-sucking little bitch!" He grabbed me by the hair and yanked my face toward his dick.

"Get off me you fucking idiot!" I shouted, kicking and shoving as I tried to get out of that stall.

"Don't fight it, bitch. You know you've always wanted to suck my cock!" Joey laughed. He slapped his dick against my face and my tightened lips.

"Someone's coming Joe!" Andy warned.

Joey quickly jumped off me, pulled up his pants and laughed. "Maybe another time then, faggot?" He punched me in the belly, and then he and Andy scurried away.

I sat there for quite some time after that, angry and sore. I was humiliated. I picked up the Bible which had been dropped on the floor and straightened out my clothes. Tears burned my eyes even though I didn't want to cry. I splashed my face with water and dried off with a few paper towels. I was so pissed off. Joey had once been my friend. I'd invited him to my damn birthday party a few years ago! And now he'd just assaulted me and there was nothing I could do about it. I'd never been a violent kind of guy, but in that moment I had a list of guys I wanted to hurt, and it only had one name on it: Joseph Quinn McKenzie. I wanted to hurt him bad. I was going to get him back someday. I was going to make him pay for what he'd done to me.

I arrived at the pew with the service having already started. Mom gave me an angry glance as I slipped in beside her. I looked a few rows ahead on the other side of the church and there sat Joey with his mom and dad, smirking, as if nothing had happened. I hated them. I hated Joey for what he'd done to me and I hated his parents for allowing him to become such a smug little asshole. Shit, dude... I'd just been sexually assaulted and I couldn't do anything but sit there like an asshole as the guy who'd done it sat there singing praise songs as if nothing had happened.

It proved one thing to me more solidly than ever: I could never let people know about me and Brett. Never! I was never coming out. I was never telling anyone I was gay, ever! It was bad enough that I'd been attacked, but more than that, I didn't want Brett to get hurt. If anyone ever hurt Brett the way I'd just been hurt, I might murder them.

They sang a few praise hymns, which are different than regular hymns. Lots of hand waving and crying while the band repeats over and over how much they love Jesus. I stood there like a dork, watching it all with a bit of incredulity. I was very embarrassed when I started crying again. People were going to think I was into all the garbage that was going on, instead of realizing just how hopeless I was feeling in that place. I missed the quiet reverence of Brett's church compared to the clamor of Pastor Carl's Cavalcade of Christ. Brett made their guitar player look like a total tool. Of course, the praise band was only the warm-up act. The offering was the main event. Pastor Carl made a lot of promises about how God was going to give back everything you put in the plate, ten times over. And how if you just had more faith you might even get healed. It sounded like a lot of crap to me, but mom threw in a substantial amount when the plate came our way.

"I guess God needs our money more than we do," I muttered under my breath. But mom heard me and rebuked me sharply in Jesus name. I didn't put in any of my money in the plate. Watching this garbage was destroying what little faith I'd had in God by the minute. Then the sermon started.

Pastor Carl usually started with something funny, but this week he wasn't in the mood for humor. Apparently something had happened with one of his kids and he wanted to thank the congregation for their kindness. He didn't really elaborate, so I couldn't really figure out if the kid was sick or if something had happened to him. I barely knew his kids. That, and I really didn't care. He said that he really wanted to talk about holiness, and he read some scripture. He almost had me asleep when he said something that snapped me right to attention.

"I love people who struggle with homosexuality, I really do."

In my mind I already knew what was coming next, one of those love the sinner hate the sin sermons. But Pastor Carl threw us a curve ball.

"I feel sorry for them really, because they have, by their repugnant, vile, disgusting, filthy, vomitus, actions condemned themselves and so many others to the very pit of Hell and they are taking America down that road with them!"

I literally rolled my eyes. This was just what I was hoping for.

"How can we sing God Bless America when we have this type of activity going on not only in our nation, but in our very homes? How long will God wait to pour out his wrath on every home in which we allow this activity to go on? How long will God spare our nation? How long will God wait until he destroys the homosexual movement with fire?"

"Gives new meaning to `flaming' doesn't it?" I whispered to my mom. That went over like a fart in church. I really think if she could have she would have sacrificed me right then and there. I decided to keep my comments to myself after that. Brett would have laughed.

"We have these events called "Gay Pride." Isn't that the issue, friends? Isn't it the pride that comes before the fall? The wicked do not believe that there will be judgment for their evil deeds. Perverts! Sexual deviants! Sinners beware! There will be no escaping God's wrath! They are playing with fire! Will God wait for long before he allows that fire to consume them?"

While I couldn't see his face, I could almost feel Joey smirking in sanctimonious satisfaction. I'm guessing Pastor Carl wouldn't have approved him trying to force me to suck his stupid dick, or what he was planning to do to Angela with his stupid friend. I bet he wouldn't be too happy to find out his church's golden boy was planning to get a girl an abortion.

Pastor Carl continued, "No friends, God is not mocked. Across this nation, we are bringing judgment upon ourselves, because we allow this kind of behavior to go on, and we say nothing because we love the sinner and hate the sin. But this is not what is required of us. If we allow this perversion to take place in our homes, then we heap judgment upon our own families and upon our very own homes."

Shouts of "amen" rang out in the crowd. Mom nodded in agreement, hanging on Pastor Carl's every word.

"Friends, you know the heartache which has taken place in my own home. I wish I could tell you that this is something that is only going on in California or in the big cities, but it's not. It's here! It's going on in Donora! It's celebrated in our school with support groups and liberal garbage and by teachers who will tell our children that it's okay to be a pervert and a deviant! They kicked God out of our schools and let the perverts in! It's come to our small communities and even to our homes! If you allow this kind of evil disgusting activity to take place in your homes or in your school, then you are saying to God that you agree with this abomination. Evil creeps in when good people do nothing! This is not someone else's problem! I speak to you as one who has had to make the choice between my child and my God! If this sexual sickness is going on in your home, the most loving thing you can do is THROW IT OUT!! REBUKE IT IN THE NAME OF JESUS CHRIST!!! GOD WILL NOT SPARE THOSE WHO ALLOW EVIL AND UNCLEANNESS IN THEIR HOMES!!! GIVE HIM PRAISE AND GLORY IN THE HOUSE OF GOD THIS MORNING!!! HALLELUJAH!!!!"

The place exploded in cheering and applause. I sat there in stunned silence. I felt like I had a big red "H" tattooed on my forehead. Pastor Carl finished up not long after that crescendo, but the damage had already been done. This had moved beyond normal Sunday preaching into some kind of obsession for Pastor Carl. I felt bad for his kid, being thrown out of his house and then pretty much sacrificed in front of all these wackos. I wanted to crawl under the pew and hide. I kept waiting for Joey to stand up and pronounce God's judgment upon me as well.

The final chorus played and the sheep of Pastor Carl's flock gathered at the back door to greet him. They praised his courage and his willingness to lead them by his gracious example. I threw up a little in my mouth when I heard it.

Joey and his parents walked by while my mom talked with one of the ushers. After Joey's parents had moved far enough ahead of him, he nailed me in the back with his elbow. "Sounds like another queer is on the market, Billy. Want me to get Nate's phone number for you?" he whispered.

"Fuck off, asshole," I replied, soft enough so that no one would hear me swear in church.

"See you in school. Maybe we can finish what we started. I hear fags give the best blow jobs."

I wanted to tell him off, but I was in enemy territory, so I just turned around and grabbed my mom.

"Can we get out of here please?" I asked.

"Billy, can't you see I'm talking to David?" mom replied, obviously annoyed with my impatience.

"Oh, it's no trouble, Paula. I guess Willy can't wait to get out of here and share the gospel."

My mom laughed. I didn't. "Did you seriously just call me Willy, dude? Seriously?"

"Don't mind Billy, David," mom said. "You were asking about a dinner for Pastor Carl?"

"Yes, Wednesday evening in honor of Pastor Carl's fifth year in ministry with us. I hope you and Willy can make it, and George of course."

"Dude, my name is not Willy," I protested. I swear to God I wanted to stab him.

Mom and David ignored me. "I'll be there. I can't say that George will be. Ever since the stroke, it's hard for him to do much of anything strenuous."

"That's a real shame," David replied. "Well, I hope you'll be there, Paula. You too, Willy."

"See you around, DAVE... Let's go, mom," I insisted. I pulled on her arm until she started to come with me.

"Billy, what is your problem? Why are you being so rude?" mom asked as we walked down the aisle toward the exit.

"I just want to go home." I said. In truth, I couldn't wait to get the hell out of there. I'd been sexually assaulted by a guy who was once my friend. I was being condemned to hell because of who I loved. I was getting sick just being in the building. The only problem was that we were walking right up to Pastor Carl who was waiting at the door. Mom hugged him.

"Carl, I'm so sorry about Nate," she whispered.

"He's in God's hands, Paula. It's good to see you. Billy gets taller every time I see him. How tall are you now, son?" he asked.

"I'm not your son, dude," I scowled.

"William Aaron!" mom scolded. She apologized profusely for my snotty attitude. Pastor Carl just smiled and assured her that he'd raised five teenage boys and knew what she was going through. I managed to slip away as she had the nerve to praise that asshole for delivering such a powerful and important sermon.

I knew it was going to be a hell of a car ride home.

"What the hell is your problem, Billy?" she snapped as soon as we were in the car.

"You kiss the pastor's ass with that potty mouth?" I asked. I deserved the smack upside the head she gave me for that one. I laughed.

"Was that supposed to hurt me?"

"You can keep laughing in your room when we get home."

"Sure. Can you ground me next Sunday so I don't have to listen to that crap again?" I asked.

The rest of our ride was spent in silence. I think both of us were afraid to let the conversation go any further. Dad was working in the garage when we got home, so I stayed with him while mom went inside to change clothes.

"Can I stay with you on Sundays from now on?" I asked.

"What are you going to hell for this week?" dad chuckled.

"I just... The whole place is... I'm sorry, it's full of crap," I fumed.

"I see," dad replied. "You know, boy, not every Christian is like Pastor Carl. I've been a Christian for a long time. I did some downright evil things when I was younger. I made some mistakes. But I believe in a God who forgives. People like to hate what they don't understand. Pastor Carl preaches what the people want to hear. It's easier to point fingers at someone else than to look in the mirror. There are no perfect people in the world, boy. Anybody who tells you otherwise is, well, like you said; they're full of crap."

"I don't even believe in God anymore," I replied. "Not after that."

"Well I'm real sorry to hear that, boy. But I get it. I'm not sure if what Pastor Carl is preaching is really who God is. So I can understand why you would be confused. If I believed what those people believed, then I would have gone to one of those healing services and thrown my cane away. But that's not what God is about. I'll tell you what I've seen, God spends most of the time working in the places you can't see until you look back and see how he's worked it all together for you long after the fact. It's easier to see God in the rearview mirror than through the windshield. Don't let someone like Pastor Carl tell you what to believe. Love is more powerful than hate, boy."

"That just made more sense than everything I heard in that church," I replied.

"Well, your old man is still good for something, then," dad laughed.

Well, a tough chapter, but a necessary one. Billy had a rough go of it in this chapter. More of his problems are developing into adult problems now. Looks like his community will not be as welcoming as he might have hoped.

Any thoughts? I'd love to hear them! You can reach me at jkwsquirrel@yahoo.com

Next time: The Prodigal Returns