I am startled, confused, and mildly agitated as I look up from my Sexwich, like a sleep walker awakened from a glorious dream only to find themselves in the middle of Chelsea.
“Do you need healing?” She repeats. I look around to see who is actually talking to me, because I know for damn sure I didn’t make any purposeful eye contact with anyone but Sexwich. A rather Rubenesque, college-aged female (and I'm not sure if that is the proper term to use as she strongly resembled Joe Montegna) approaches me flanked by two abnormally tall and attractive dudes. I could immediately tell that something was amiss. The balance of attractiveness going on before my eyes was all wrong. The eye candy was clearly some sort of diversionary tactic.
My god. They were after Sexwich.
I gathered Sexwich close in a protective embrace.
“You look as though you need healing.” She says, kneeling by my feet.
The hell I do. Is one of my arms falling off? I check them both, just to be sure. There might have been bits of scrambled egg in my hair, but that's nothing out of the ordinary.
“Absolutely not.” I respond, and I am 99.8% sure that I am telling the truth.
“Are you sure you don’t need Jesus’ healing love to light the way through your personal darkness?”
I had hoped that she was some sort of neo-pagan pedaling reiki retreats and patchouli oil, but it turns out she’s a plain clothes Mormon on her wacky Mormon pilgrimage, and I have a long, terrible history with Mormons. That, however, is a story for another day. I don’t know how, but Jesus people have a spooky way of knowing that I am banking enough bad karma points to construct my own circle of hell, conveniently located just below the lowest level of the Inferno, within walking distance of the great betrayers. It's like they can smell the fire and brimstone on me.
It's like they can see my dirty pillows.
But I digress.
“Nope," I replied. "That's quite all right. I like my darkness just fine.”
I look around at all the people passing by, and of course everyone is looking at me because I am that chump that got singled out.
“Surely you would like to be healed of your addiction?”
Addiction? Again, I have to scan my personage to make sure I'm not sitting on a crack pipe.
“I'm sorry?” I rather blurted this out.
“Wouldn’t you love to break your addiction to food?”
Horrified, I looked down at Sexwich, acutely self-aware of my weight. Then I remembered that this chick was quite obviously seventy pounds heavier than me and I got
ANGRY.
“Listen Joe Montengna,” I say, raising my voice now, “I am on my lunch break and I am eating my lunch. I am not interested in you, your healing abilities, or the somewhat beguiling mystery of how an ugly, brainwashed troll like you gets to share the same space as two highly attractive men.” I punctuated this by winking at the guys, obviously.
“Okay.” She says, and I’m thinking to myself, I WIN, when she counters: “I can just pray over you while you eat.”
“Fine.” I say through clenched teeth. “Do what you need to do. I’m going to continue to eat my sandwich and pretend you’re not standing there praying over me like a FUCKING MORON."
So I go back to eating Sexwich, but the mood is completely ruined. The joy is gone. Joe Montengna begins to pray loudly, waving her hands in circles over my head.
“Dear sweet Jesus, give this woman the strength and courage to release herself from the terrible grasp of Satan. Let her see that as long as she eats the food from Satan’s table, listens to Satan’s music like Aerosmith"--huh?--"and engages in forbidden bisexual acts--“ HUH??? “—she will continue down the path of ruination and damnation. Help her to replace the false joy of these diversions with the eternal peace and joy that only your love brings, forever and ever. Amen.”
“I DO NOT LISTEN TO AEROSMITH!" I yelled.
Then she joins hands with the two very handsome gentlemen on either side of her, and says to them--and this is a direct quote--"I told you she was a bride of Satan". I actually choked on my Sexwich. Then--you'll never believe this--they raised their voices in song.
I was beginning to fear where this was going:
"That was lovely," I said as they finished their psalm. “Your talent and theatricality have made me see the light in which I can see all truths--and the truth that is most glaringly obvious to me is how gay your two friends are for each other. Tell me, did the church force this pilgrimage on you as some last ditch effort to convert you through humiliation?"
Joe Montegna gasped as if I had just slapped her on the ass. "Sinner! You are a sinner!"
"I'll allow it. But you look like Joe Montegna and no amount of praying is going to change that. Also, guys, you're gay. It's time to be proud about that."
Bride of Satan: 1
Mormon: 0
“You are truly lost to evil and you are passed the power of Christ. Come on, guys. Let's not waste all of our time on those that God despises. I hope you burn eternally in the flames of Hell.”
"And I hope you have a nice trip back to Utah. Never forget:You're gay!"
As they walked away, I triumphantly finished Sexwich.
Even cold, it was delicious.
