plastic baby jesus (Chp. 3) - [Matthew]

I'm nothing if not a man of my word; here now is the last installment of the promised three chapters. Anyone interested in reading the whole 'plastic baby jesus' novella, please e-mail me directly at matthew@95-theses.com.

Enjoy...

[ Chapter 3 ]

He thought he had seen it on the way in, on the bus. In the front of the big church next to, what was it? A library? His knuckles were still sore and red from punching the bathroom stalls at the H.O.F.L. offices downtown. He stared down with disgust at the promo sticker in his hand. After a moment, he balled it up and turned to find somewhere to throw it. Finding no satisfactory target, he launched it into the air. It floated to rest on the sidewalk three feet away.

The boy was suddenly self-conscious and looked around to see if anyone had noticed him. Staring fiercely at the sticker, he picked it up, jammed it deep into the pockets of his father’s old overcoat, and made tracks toward the bus stop.

Checking the schedule, he exhaled deeply into his hands. How was Chicago so much colder than Wonder Lake? It was just fifty miles away. Then, as if in a movie, a bus pulled away and there it was, the church next to the library. And on the church’s lawn, the nativity.

Without hesitation, his knees sank into the snow in front of the manger. Hands clasped together, eyes shut, head bowed.

“Dear God…” his freezing lips intoned. A pause. Silence.

“Dear God, I’m…” Again, the impetus evaporated.

“Heavenly Father…”

Like trying to turn over the engine on a cold day. It just wasn’t working. The eyes opened, cold and glassy. He looked down to see that his hands were no longer folded reverently, but were holding on white-knuckled to the edge of the manger where the Plastic Baby Jesus slept.

The boy looked up at the heavenly host, gloriously illuminated by the forty watt bulb burning inside each of them.

Finally, the breakthrough:

“Dear God, I hope you understand what I’m about to do.”


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