At work tonight I was standing around grinding my teeth and kicking my desk. I drew a big black circle on the back of my hand and said "I will fuck you up" and someone behind me said "Excuse me?!" I turned around and an old woman holding the Chicago skyline in her hands was glaring at me so I apologized and mumbled something about how I didn't know she was there and I remembered that story about how years years years ago you opened your eyes and discovered that in a room full of three hundred kids you were the only one not standing, the only one not "ready to forget about yourself and what makes you happy and start living completely for God and what makes Him happy." When asked about it the next afternoon you jumped in a lake. On the van ride home at the end of the week, while listening to a Beastie Boys tape that you had covered in dcTalk stickers, you looked at the letters on everyone else's wrists and then looked out the window at a man with a backpack who was poking his thumb up and you kicked the seat in front of you and yelled "This is what Jesus would do, he would pull over and pick that guy up!" Someone laughed and the driver didn't slow down but he did explain that he didn't know where that guy was going and that you were running late anyway and that it wasn't safe to pick up hitchhikers anymore:
    "When Jesus was around it wasn't as dangerous to pick up hitchhikers. That's why He was always doing it."
    "No He wasn't! Two people can't ride on a donkey! But if he would of had a car!"
    "No, I mean, like, the Good Samaritan... But I guess that wasn't..."
    "My grampa used to always hitchhike! He's not dangerous!"
    "But your grampa was a pastor. And that was a long time ago."
    "Not that long ago! And maybe that guy was a pastor!"
    "I don't think so... Why would..."
    "And he wasn't even a pastor yet when he did it!"
You turned "Sabotage" back up and scowled out the window and said, as quietly as you could, "fuck this shit,” the first real cuss of your long little life.