Send Your Dollars to God--InCare of Me

Willie was a worthless bastard.  Everyone from his high school guidance counselor to his parole officer knew it, and were more than willing to share their sentiments about Willie with anyone who was willing to listen.  Willie had that kind of effect on people—he was easy to hate.  Willie couldn’t care less what people thought of him.  To him people were on this planet for one purpose only—to serve his needs.  The guy was pure scum.  He beat up his mother, raped his nephew, and killed his pregnant girlfriend by kicking her in the stomach when she was 7 months pregnant because he didn’t like the idea of paying child support.  None of this bothered Willie though; as a matter of fact, he was convinced all his victims deserved what they got.
#
“Wake up you lousy bastard, you’re getting out today,” said the prison guard as he opened the outer door of the cell.
“Fuck you fat boy, I ain’t going nowhere,” Willie replied.
“I’ve been listening to your shit for the past 7 years cocksucker, and believe-you-me, I’m happy your ass is getting out today—even if you ain’t.  Now get the fuck up or I’ll call the goon squad.”
“Call um,” is all Willie said, rolling over on his cold metal bunk, awkwardly trying to cover his 6-4 frame with the scratchy gray woolen blanket.  “Where the hell I got to go anyway?”  Lying there in the solitary cell that had been his home for the past seven years, Willie felt secure, protected, and cared for.  Some people, and Willie was one of them, become institutionalized after a long period of incarceration.  That is, they become happy and contented with the three hots and a cot that prison life provides.  Usually social misfits like Willie, they can’t seem to function in the real world.  Psychologists and criminologists have studied the phenomenon for years, and have developed a half dozen theories in order to explain it.  The research keeps the grant money rolling in.  What all these experts seem to ignore is the simple fact, that some people are just worthless bastards like Willie.  These people have a high sense of entitlement and are incapable of productive social interaction.  They think others were born only to fulfill their needs. 
#
Willie’s sentence was reduced.  He’s getting out of prison early because the guards kept him in solitary confinement the whole time he’s been there.  Some appellate court judge ruled that Willie was subjected to cruel and unusual punishment, after hearing argument from some bleeding heart civil rights attorney that Willie never even met.  What makes it ironic is the fact that being in solitary was the only thing that kept his worthless ass alive.  There are no secrets in prison.  Everyone knows what everyone else is in for.  Pedophiles, mother beaters, wife killers, tree jumpers, and baby-killers don’t live long in prison.  That’s a fact, and Willie, being all of these despicable bastards in one degenerate sack of shit, wouldn’t have lasted five minutes in general population.  The guards all hated him too and would have loved to see him dead, but a few of them cared about the law, and they all cared about their jobs, so he got to live, and today he’s getting out.
#
The goon squad arrives suited up in their blue football uniforms, wearing helmets with clear plastic face protectors.  The squad leader, Frank Cotton, an ex-marine nobody in their right mind would ever want to mess with realizes they are at Willie’s cell.  He loses his macho game face, suddenly looking like a sheepish little boy whose be told he can’t go out and play.  Slumping his broad houlders, he raises his hands and says, “oh shit.”
“What’s up Reilly,” he asks.
“This asshole’s getting out today and he don’t want to go.”
“We’re finally getting rid of this piece of shit—I can’t believe it.”
“Well he’s going whether he wants to or not.” Said Frank, taking his stance in front of the cell door.
“Hang on a second Frank.  It ain’t gonna be that easy this time.  Usually, all we have to do is strip his skinny ass and throw him in the shower, but this time we have to get him dressed, get him downstairs, and out the fucking release port.  I don’t want anything to interfere with that, ya got me?  No punching him in the face, no kicking him in the balls, and what ever you guys do don’t let this little weasel pull anything that might be regarded by the warden as resisting, because this little rat would rather take a new charge then leave.  He likes it here.”
Frank is looking at Reilly, shaking his head back and forth in disgust when Willie hocks a huge loogy right through the wire grille of the cell door that hits Frank right on his plastic face guard, then runs down onto the starched blue collar of his uniform shirt.
“You mean something like that,” Willie laughs.
Frank is livid.
“You motherfucker.  I’ll kill you you little scumbag.  I’m gonna beat you to a bloody pulp and throw you out in the yard and let them fucking animals finish you off.”  Frank would have done it too, but Willie said he was ready to go.  Reilly begged and pleaded with Frank to let it go.  He didn’t want to risk anything that would delay Willie’s release.
#
On the bus to Tucson, Willie strikes up a conversation with dumb looking brunette of about forty with short curly brown hair and bad teeth.  She’s wearing a pair of white jeans and a yellow nylon halter-top that struggles to restrain her gigantic boobs.  Her big belly, naval ring, and all is hanging out, ready to ruin the day of anyone unfortunate enough to inadvertently gaze upon it.  Willie likes what he sees.
“Got someone inside?”  Willie asks, flashing his best prison paid for smile.
“Yeah, my baby Daddy be doing a flat five.  You just get out?”
“Just now,” said Willie.
“What was ya in for honey,”
“Oh nothing bad, just did two years for possession, but least I’m clean now.”
“Well that’s good, Praise God.”
“Praise God Almighty,” Willie says with a smile.  Not for her, but for himself because he knows he has just found himself an in.
“Yeah, I was in charge of the prison ministry inside and led a bible study group too. Maybe I worshiped with your old man—what’s his name sister.”
“His name is Marcus Williams, but you wouldn’t know him from bible study.  He’s a heathen sinner.  I tried to get him born again, but he ain’t having it.  I don’t even know why I’m with him to tell you the truth.”
“Well, we can only pray for him sister,” said Willie.  “Prayer sure worked for me.  I was a hopeless sinner until I found God.  I was lost till I was saved and born again.  Now I have no fear sister.  I know my God will guide and protect me.  Why, I’m not even afraid now.  Fresh out of prison, no family to care for me, no money in my pocket, nowhere to go.  But I have faith in Him and know that He will provide.”
“Got nowhere to go?”
“Nope,” says Willie, sullenly looking down at the bus floor, peeping up at her to see if she’s buying.  “Just the homeless shelter on 6th, but I’ll be ok.  I’m used to getting beat on.  Tall skinny guy like me can’t defend myself against those hardened street people, but I know what to do.  I’ll just curl myself up into a ball and pray for my persecutors till it’s all over.  Don’t worry about me, I’ll be ok.”
“Well maybe you can come stay with me for a couple of days—just  till you get on your feet,” she said.
“That’s awfully kind of you sister, but I wouldn’t want to put you out, what with the baby and all.”
“It’s no trouble Hun.  This is God’s will, I’m sure of it.  That’s why we met here on this bus, he put you here for me to help, and I’m going to do just that, and that’s that.  Besides, my baby is in foster care, and I got nobody in this world that cares about me either, so we have a lot in common.”
“God bless you sister,”
“The name’s Brenda.”
“Mine’s Willie.”
“This is our stop Willie.”
#
Brenda was already getting on Willie’s nerves as they walked the five blocks to her home.  She was going on and on about the Lord, and about her church, and about her minister.  Willie let her talk though, he had a way of tuning people our, while still being on the alert for anything they might say.  Something that might illuminate a juicy tidbit hidden in a dark little cranny of their inner most self, something he could use against them for his own benefit.  Willie was just nodding to the pauses in Brenda’s speech pattern as they walked.  He was hungry and thinking about food.  He hadn’t had a good meal in seven years, and judging by the size of this girl, he was certain she wasn’t missing any meals.  He was sure she had a good supply of groceries in the house.
“Here we are Willie, this is my place.”
“Oh what a nice place.”  Willie said, although he thought the place far below his standards. Crappy little one story house.  Well, he thought to himself, at least it’s a house instead of an apartment.  He had bad luck in apartments, fucking nosey neighbors calling the cops about the screaming, and all.  So this place will do.  For now anyway.
#
Willie spent his first night out of prison eating Brenda’s food, sitting on her ugly plaid couch watching Benny Hinde preach while she gave him some head. Willie allowed her that favor.  After all, it was the least he could do to repay her kindness.  Willie didn’t mind doing little favors now and then, if they worked towards his own benefit.  Afterwards they prayed together.  Willie took the bedroom after convincing Brenda it was God’s will she sleep on the couch.
#
Brenda liked being convinced of things, at least by men anyway.  She never took any shit from women, but sure seemed to be mesmerized by male pheromones or something.  Men had been convincing her of one thing or another as long as she could remember.  First it was her father.  He convinced her he loved her and that she was his princess.  He convinced her she was pretty and smart, and that he would always be there for her.  When he died in a motorcycle accident when she was nine, Brenda was convinced he would someday return.  In some ways she’s still waiting for him.  Brenda’s mom took the religious route when her daddy died, throwing herself into the church.  Irish Catholic she was.  Mass everyday, lighting novena candles for her dead husband to pay off his fiery debt, and gain him an early release from purgatory.  She put Brenda in the parish school, where nuns in black habits convinced her that her father was a liar.  They convinced her she wasn’t smart, wasn’t pretty, and that she wasn’t going to heaven.  By the time Brenda was 16, she had enough of the nuns, the church, and her mother with all her rosary beads, crape hanging, and praying.  She ran off with the first guy that convinced her to drop her drawers and never looked back.
Brenda was stripping in Tucson by the time she was 19.  By the time she was 30 she already had a half dozen abortions, and more notches on her bedpost than she could count.  When she was 35 a guy convinced her to try crystal-meth. Within a year she had lost half her teeth, most of her mind, and all of her soul.  No one was willing to pay to see her dance anymore, but she could still trade sex for drugs—for awhile anyway.  Then her dealer convinced her to stand out on the corner, but she wasn’t there long.  The cop convinced her to get into the back seat of the squad car, and the judge convinced her to go to rehab.
The counselors at the rehab convinced Brenda to find a higher power (God), and she did. They tried to convince her to stay out of relationships for at least a year but they failed at that.  It was in rehab where she met Marcus.  He convinced her that they could have a new clean and sober life together and that she should keep the baby they made under the stairway in rehab.
Three months out of rehab and pregnant, Brenda was back on the street hooking to get the money to buy drugs for her and Marcus.  By her 8th month, she couldn’t make enough to support their habits, so Marcus tried to rob a Circle K while the cops were inside drinking coffee.  He got a five-year sentence; Brenda went back to rehab and had her little crack baby.  The state took the crack baby away.  Brenda got out of rehab, went back to church, and got reborn again.  She stopped going to the prison to visit Marcus when she met Willie, who by the way, is dark haired, tall, skinny, and convincing—just like her daddy was.
#
Willie slept soundly until almost noon.  When he awoke, he laid in bed for a while looking around the room.  The room could have been bigger, but it was nicely decorated, although way too cheerful for his taste.  Once out of bed Willie noticed as he was going through Brenda’s jewelry box, how spotless the room was.  No dust on the dresser top, no smudges on the mirror, the hardwood floor was spotless and shiny.  Willie liked that, he liked things clean, and neat, and orderly.  He noted how neat and orderly the crap jewelry was arraigned in its pink little diamond-stitched box.  When he closed its lid he noticed how sexy the little ballerina in her crinoline tutu on top was.  He was hungry when he finished, and went to the kitchen to have breakfast on Brenda.
#
On the table was a note that read:
Good morning honey,
Help yourself to whatever you like in the fridge,
I went to the Salvation Army thrift store to buy you some clothes,
and then  I am going to Wal-Mart to buy you some
razors, shaving cream, and deodorant. I’m going
to make you a nice steak dinner tonight, and after
that we can go to the Bible Study at the church.
I talked to Rev. Jim on the phone and he said he’s love to have
You preach tonight, and that he is sure one of
our members can find you some work!
Can’t wait to see ya,
                                Brenda
“What the fuck did I get myself into,” Willie shouts.  “Who the fuck does this bitch think she is anyway?  Who said anything about work?  She gonna find me a job.  She better mind her own fucking business is what she better do.”  After having something to eat he manages to calm himself down.  Sitting at the little wooden table with the red checked tablecloth, looking out the window, Willie starts thinking about God.
#
There might be something to all this God shit, Willie thought.  What the hell, I’m only out of jail two minutes, I strike up a conversation with some bimbo on the bus about God, and next thing you know I got a place to stay, I got food to eat and the bimbo’s out buying me new clothes to wear.  Not too shabby.  And that Benny Hinde guy on TV, damn, looks like he’s making a pretty good buck off them suckers.  Shit, I bet I could do that myself.  But what the hell am I going to do about this bible study thing tonight?  I never even looked at the fucking thing.
#
Willie got on Brenda’s computer and found a site called Universal Ministries.  In the click of a mouse he becomes an ordained minister.  The ministry is going to send him documents so he can perform marriages for money.  Now he can legally use the title, Reverend, before his name.  Jesus Christ, imagine that, Willie thinks.  One day I’m a convicted murderer and the next I’m the Right Reverend Willie Clawson.  Fuck it.  If it’s good enough for Benny Hinde, Al Sharpton, and the rest of them phony bastards, then it’s good enough for me.
Willie spends the rest of the afternoon on the Universal Ministries site where he finds a whole shitload of prepared sermons, biblical quotations, and Christian catch phrases.  Willie’s a scumbag, but he’s also a quick study.  By the time Brenda gets home with his new clothes, his transformation is complete.  He practices his sermon on Brenda, and whips her into such a state of religious frenzy, that he has no choice but to screw her in order to calm her down.  He thinks about the little ballerina instead of Brenda, and imagines what it would be like to wear a crinoline tutu under the frock he ordered online from Universal Ministries.
#
At the Church of the Hereafter, Brenda introduced Willie to the congregation.  He corrected her whenever she forgot to use Reverend before his name.  Willie was sizing everyone up, and soon came to the conclusion that most of the people there were dumb as a bag of hair. They did appeared to have some gold though, judging by the fancy cars in the parking lot.  They all seemed to think highly of Brenda, which confirmed his suspicions about their intelligence.
“So this must be our newest member and Bible Study leader Willie,” said Rev. Jim placing his icy cold baby soft hand on willies shoulder.  Without hesitation Willie turned to face him, looked him in the eye, and replied in a voice that exuded charismatic Christianity:
“That’s Reverend Willie pastor, peace be with you in Christ’s name.  It’s an honor to make your acquaintance sir.  Thank you for inviting me here tonight to share in the fellowship
of your fine congregation, and for allowing me the opportunity to bring and share in the word of the Lord with my brothers and sisters in Christ.”
Rev. Jim beamed as he pumped Willies hand and for a moment Willie thought he was going to try and kiss him.  Willie smiled broadly back at him, sizing him up with the cold eye of a hammerhead shark.  Rev. Jim was a frail man of perhaps sixty-five.  Willie looked down on Rev. Jim’s, squeaky-clean bald head while shaking his hand.  A hand Willie was certain never did an honest days work in its life.  Willie instinctively knew he would have no problem taking over this man’s congregation.
“Brenda tells me that you were incarcerated for possession of narcotics,” said Rev. Jim, his pale blue eyes intently searching Willies for signs of deception.  “That must have been quite an ordeal.”
“It is true that I served time for possession of narcotics Reverend, but what Brenda neglected to mention was that I was framed by a group heathen police officers and unjustly convicted,” replied Willie. “You see, I had been involved in an inner city ministry and a number of our youth came to me in confidence seeking guidance.  The boys complained that several police officers had coerced them into—shall we say bestowing sexual favors in return for liquor and marijuana.  As you can imagine I was shocked and outraged.  These were fine young boys being drawn into a life of debauchery by men who were supposed to by symbols of protection and honor in our society.  I immediately confronted the officers, both to chastise them and to minister to them in hopes of saving their immortal souls.  Unfortunately, I was able to accomplish neither goal.  They severely beat me, abused me sexually, and planted narcotics on my person.  I was taken to court where I sought justice, pleading my case in the name of God.  As you know Reverend, the Lord doth work in mysterious ways.  I came to believe that it was God’s will I be sent to prison.  I accepted my fate, giving thanks in his name.  While incarcerated, my mission was to tend to the spiritual needs of the downtrodden prisoners.  Many a sinner there did I bring into the fold, many there did I baptize in the spring of eternal life.  So to answer your question Reverend Jim, yes Sir, I was incarcerated, but never once was I a prisoner.”
Willie busted the old guy’s nut.  The poor old guy was weeping on Willies chest in heaving waves of uncontrollable emotion.  He tried to speak but could only manage to mutter:
“I’m sorry I doubted you my son, I’m sorry I doubted you.  Such pain and injustice you have been through.  I’m sorry I doubted you.”
Jesus Christ, thought Willie, somebody get this nut off of me, he’s slobbering all over my new shirt.  Finally several of the church ladies pried the old guy off and sat him down.  After regaining his composure the Reverend Jim took to the pulpit and gave an eloquent introduction to the man who would become his nemesis, torturer, and master.  Jim took to the pulpit, grasping its sides in the firm triumphant grip of a Caesar looking upon his subjects.  The intoxicating glow of power surged through the Right Reverend Willie.  Taking a deep breath, Willie thought to himself, ok suckers, It’s ShowTime.
#
And what a show he put on.  The bullshit flowed like a river of sin.  Willie had them shouting praise, amening, and waiving their hands in the air like they were satellite dishes trying to catch the almighty signal straight from God, through the mouth of Willie.  Willie pounded on the pulpit so hard his arm was in a sling for a week, but he had them eating out of his hand and boy did he know it.  At one point in the sermon Willie got on the congregation about Brenda, implying she was the Mary Magdalene to his Jesus.  With righteous indignation he berated them for allowing poor Brenda to walk around with a mouthful of rotten teeth, while the Lord had blessed them with abundance. 
By the time they left that night, Brenda’s purse was stuffed full of checks that he talked the congregation into making out to cash.  Reverend Jim made Willie assistant Pastor that very night.  Willie was so happy; he actually let Brenda keep a couple of the checks in order to get her teeth fixed, get some much needed liposuction.  The rest he invested in his television “ministry,” which became a fabulous success.  He now is the spiritual leader of over 10 million morons, and concludes each telecast with a tearful plea to his followers.  Tears rolling down his cheeks, he looks into the camera and sobs:
“Please, please my brethren, there is so much we can do to help our fellow man in the name of God.  But doing God’s work takes money.  I beg you to search deep in your hearts and to dig deep into your pockets, and to send your money to God—in care of me.”