I’m not really sure what it is about catholics that I don’t like, but it’s something, that’s for sure. I don’t like the way they stand up and sit down and kneel and stand up and kneel; it’s just so confusing. I don’t like the way the priest walks around with the incense and mumbles things in other languages. If what he had to say was so important, he could speak up and talk in English. I just don’t like ‘em. They can all go and sit on the biggest toilet in the whole world and flush themselves into their own confessional of hatred and guilt.
Me, well, I’m not a catholic and I doubt I’ll ever be, the way I drink and smoke and fuck and carry on. I’m just not made to feel bad about things that are good. Hell, if the catholics had their way, nothing we did that might make us smile would be allowed. Bollocks – that’s all that is. A bunch of quacks upset that the rest of the world is having a good time and they just don’t understand it. Maybe it’s genetic, who can say?
Either way, catholics can just fuck off.
I got a letter the other day from the office of canonical services, which if I were to guess, would be a department of the church that services all their canons. Well, fuck me if it isn’t that. It turns out that the woman I’m still off-my-rocker-in-love with has decided to send just one last jab – right there in the throat where it’s hard to breathe when you get hit. She’s off to get hitched to some clod who’s brightest idea ever was to slip it to her. Hell, she’s a wild cat in the sac and I know she’ll never beg for his penis. I’ll bet he’s never even had her finger up his ass, massaging his oversized prostate thick with guilt and oppression. What a waste of a fine sex kitten. To go to the church and never have that kind of wild sex again, well, it’s just a damn shame and no one should have to do that. Goddamn brainwashers.
Well, they sent me a letter and it said:
Dear Mr. Taylor: I respectfully request a few moments of your time regarding your former marriage with Jane Smith. Janet Renault has petitioned the Diocese of Orange to investigate her status to enter a future marriage in the Catholic Church. Out of respect to yourself and the former marriage, you are being contacted regarding this process.
It would be most helpful if you would respond to the questions listed below. If you have questions, please feel free to call me (collect) during the day at 714-282-3149.
Please be assured that this is purely and ecclesiastical matter with no effects in civil law, and that confidentiality will be carefully protected. Thank you very much for your help.
Sincerely,
Susan Stankis, Ecclesiastical Notary
Then they went on to ask a bunch of questions about where I was baptized and where Jane was baptized and what religion I am and her and what the hell was wrong with me that I wasn’t already a catholic? Those dirty bastards were trying to woo me over with their fake respectfully requesting things. I wouldn’t have it. I refused to have my soul saved by a bunch of savages that don’t understand the beauty of love. They just don’t know what it’s like to feel the inside of a woman, to fall asleep inside of her so that in the morning it’s a hell of a pain in the ass, all stuck together with juices hardened over night. Hell, those damn catholics will never know what it’s like to be fucking so good that the whole world doesn’t matter outside your body, it’s just a bunch of ants wandering around with leaves.
So I said to hell with it and decided I was going to call up Susan and see if she wanted to know what it was like to feel the whole world fall away and the only thing that mattered was how hard I pulled her hair and how deep I went into her cunt. I figured that they’re always trying to convert us; it was time to try and convert them. I knew that if she could just feel me deep inside of her with a little wine and maybe some reefer, she’d be sold out on the church and buy into a real life. I didn’t even care if it was my cock doing the conversion; I’d have gone for any old cock for that ecclesiastical notary.
Those damn catholics are all heathens and pig warts. I’m not even sure now if I should have tried to convert her. I bet she was just ruined to begin with and wouldn’t convert anyway. Of course, maybe it’s just that I’m a little upset that she didn’t want my cock. Either way, the damn catholics are all just crap.
So, I called up that little whore and I told her a mouthful and she got upset and didn’t want to talk to me anymore. I even called her collect. – I recommend you do that also. So I’m on the phone with her and she’s trying to tell me about catholicism and whatever, some thing about canon law, and I get all fired up and I can’t remember why I called. I don’t tell her anything about my cock, or how crazy in love I am with Janet and how I don’t care what she does and she should be happy and the whole fucking world ought to be happy by now, but I didn’t say any of that. Instead I said I wasn’t gonna rat on someone that wasn’t a part of this whole ugly drunken mess that started on the way out of my shrinks office. I told her that I didn’t care about canon law and got into some silly tirade that boiled down to logical fallacies. Fucking Christ, I should have known I’d get all hot and bothered and not be able to carry on the way I knew I should.
I’ve done that before, you know? I’ve ruined a perfectly good lay getting all wired about politics and catholics and churches in general. I did it to Janet, and she was a nympho. You just don’t get a good humpin’ the way she humped, but I digress…
You know what? I don’t digress, this isn’t about catholics at all. This is about how the church ruins all my good lays. Well, maybe it’s not, maybe it’s just about how damn upset I am that I couldn’t slip it to old Susan. Christ, I would have settled for whackin’ off and havin’ some ecclesiastical phone sex. Now, I bet Jesus would have done that if he’d have been born after Alexander Graham Bell. He’d probably have the smoothest voice ever and he’d send the ladies up to their orgasmic heaven and they’d never come back down.
But either way, I’m still pissed off that I didn’t get to get off with Susan and the damn church wouldn’t have my musings. I hope Susan reads this and masturbates like a mother fucker, then goes and tells some priest about it in a confessional and they just break down and wind up having some wild sex in the booth right there, bruising their backs on the wooden bible holders and getting’ splinters in their hands, love coating the inside of that damn booth and I hope that they never say sorry and just get together and have a good ol’ time and leave that mean, ugly little church right there were it is. I hope Susan gets out and gets happy. Then someday she’ll find me ‘cause she’s still got my address and we get together and she slips some fingers up my ass and I put some cock in hers.