Too Gay For You

Chapter Five: Julia

I shifted uncomfortably in my pew as I stared right into the midget-priest's crotch.

Church had gone from boring to incredibly amusing within a time period of two weeks. 

Our old, extremely homophobic priest (Father Dan) had finally kicked the bucket and gone straight to hell. Some nuns found gay porn mags in his office, we got on the news for once, and some radical gay pride club had spray-painted the double door entrance to our chapel in rainbow colors. 

So, through the confusing process of finding another priest, we had ended up with Father Tyrone - the liberal, midget priest of Our Lady Divine's Catholic Church. He was a stout man with a mustache the size of Asia sticking out over his lip. I could dig it. 

Why Father Tyrone felt the need to stand on a stool that would make his crotch level with my face, I would never know. Though his shortness amused me and he definitely strayed from our old father's "gays burn we all burn yay" speech - I was in fucking church. That shit is boring, no matter the leprechaun-status of a priest. 

Sneaking my phone from the sleeve of my jacket, I sent a quick text to Poppy.

JULIA, 10:00 AM: ohmygod father tyrone is talking about gay people and my grandma looks like she's going to have a hemorrhage.
JULIA, 10:01 AM: i hope she has one. racist cunt.
POPPY, 10:05 AM: dont you mean homophobic?
JULIA, 10:10 AM: well shes racist too
POPPY, 10:12 AM: ur family loves me haha
JULIA, 10:14 AM: thats bc they think you're straight. grams hasnt like you since you dyed ur hair tho
POPPY, 10:15 AM: racist cunt.
JULIA, 10:16 AM: indeed.

I chuckled quietly, shoving the phone under my butt as Grandma threw me an ugly look. 

Mr. Hyde had cancelled on us for our "cooking sesh" scheduled on Friday. Said his nephew got into a bull-riding competition and that it was vital for Hyde to attend. I really couldn't tell if he was shitting us or not. 

As had been the case for the past three days, I thought of Poppy. And her lips. And her tongue on mine.

Unbeknownst to her, she'd been the source of quite a few of my recent wet dreams. Every time I'd looked at her since, a small blush would creep up my neck and I still hoped she hadn't seen it. 

My phone buzzed beneath my ass. I slid it out a smidgen to read the screen.

POPPY, 11:02 AM: hope ur having fun with ty ty in the chapel

A smile overtook my face. It buzzed again.

POPPY, 11:03 AM: ur athiest ass better not reveal itself today. i dont want a grounded best friend.

Or a grounded make out buddy, my conscious spat out bitterly. 

I mean, that kiss had been pretty hot. But I'd found these awful things inside of me when I thought about how hot it was. 

Those awful things were emotions. 

Emotions I had for my best friend.

My supposedly straight best friend.

Who made out with me.

Father Tyrone's sermon jolted me from my trance.

"AND I WILL SAY THIS AGAIN,"  He stood up on the altar, raising his hands to the ceiling. I choked back a laugh. "GOD GAVE US THIS LOVELY EARTH IN HIS NAME, SO WE MUST LOVE EVERYONE - LOVE THE GAYS, THE PAGANS, AND EVEN THEM KARDASHIANS. LOVE THEM ALL BECAUSE WE, AS CATHOLICS, MUST LOVE ALL. LOVE. LOVE IS GREATNESS. LOVE IS LIFE."

He jumped to the ground, sent me a wink, and called the day to an end. 

A thought hit me as I maneuvered out of the room, following behind my uppity family, who walked with their heads up high and intelligence low.

Those awful emotions... were they love? 

No. I shoved away the idea. I wasn't in love. The weird sermon had gotten to me. I was just making shit up. Like our midget priest. I bet he didn't even have a degree in priest-ology. 

Fuck Father Tyrone. That poetic bastard was going to midget hell.