Corn, Cows, and the Apocalypse

Strawberries

August's statement about celibacy reminded me that I still needed to get holy water from Priest, so I took the truck back out to his church. The trip wasn't far, but it was nice to get away from the house. No matter how lonely you get in life, you can still appreciate some privacy.

Alone in the truck, I blared Jimmy the Card's radio broadcast. He usually played upbeat music during the day hours. In the weekday evenings, he switched to soft rock, but the weekend nights, he played heavy dance and rap music.

There were always parties on the weekends. In the rural areas, we went to barn dances—literally in barns on someone's farm. Jimmy would announce the invitations to his listeners and we went to whichever was the closest. The parties usually consist of dancing, drinking, and finding someone to take a roll in the hay with—again literally.

Past the witching hour Jimmy switched to romantic melodies to cater to the couples spending the night in each other's arms. I was usually passed out long before that, but I was told if you made it to three a.m. Jimmy put on a pornographic recitation for all of his female fans who preferred to spend their nights with him. Essentially, live broadcasted phone sex. What the hell, the FCC was no longer functional.

After a lot of off-key singing, I arrived at the church for another round of Priest's anti-God rhetoric. As usual, I listened at the door to make sure I didn't walk in on anything. Given my last visit, it wasn't a foolproof method, but calling ahead wasn't an option, since the church didn't have a phone, and Priest rarely went back to his rectory.

As I listened at the door, I heard a few pleasure-summoned moans from women inside. I cursed my luck and walked around to the garden instead of retreating back to the truck. I knew from experience that this might be a long wait, but I didn't want to make the trip again tomorrow.

August and the others didn't trust Priest—with good reason. People high on coke and other drugs tended to do bad things. They objected to my visits, whether they were necessary or not. Twice in one week was already causing second and third glances between them. I wasn't sure if they were afraid that Priest was going to hurt me, or just influence me to his side of madness.

The apocalypse had brought about a plague of unmowed lawns, but Priest had managed to keep his garden in functioning order, which was strange, since he didn't keep himself in functioning order. To my surprise and glee, I found a patch of strawberries that were ripe for the picking.

I sat down and started picking. Without regard to the red juice that spilled down my chin and fingers, I relished the little berries. I'm pretty sure I may have eaten a bug or two as well, but that was no matter when the little bits of fruit were so sweet.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" Priest's voice bellowed, shattering my epicurean thoughts.

I looked up and found him standing over me with his hands on his hips. The sun blocked my view of his face, so I couldn't tell how mad he was. I blinked against the light and spat out the top of my strawberry. "I was just tasting them."

"Tasting? Is that what you call that piggery display?" He threw out his hand and I flinched, fearing the worst. "Come with me. I'll show you how to eat strawberries."

I put my hand in his and he pulled me up, tugging me back into the church. When I dragged behind him instead of walking beside him, he switched his grip from my hand to around my shoulders. I was used to him being proximately drunk, but the cozy guided tour up his church aisle was out of character. The fact that I couldn't smell alcohol on him was even more unusual.

The moans I heard from before were still coming from two women on the steps in front of the altar. They were sharing strawberries, Lady and the Tramp style. After each bite they kissed and moaned with enjoyment.