He Wormed Inside Of My Heart Like A Parasite

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Warning: Although the below story is meant to be a satire, it can be interpreted as offensive to certain religious groups. No real offense is meant, though if you are easily offended, proceed at your own risk. Thank you.2

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"I heard today of a thing called Christ
Who lived inside a woman's head
It maneuvered just under her scalp
and could not be poisoned out"4

- "Worm Christ" by Anne Elliot5

6

"Talk to your doctor about Jesus Christ," Marla ordered. 7

I glanced at her. "Are you sure?" 8

"Yes. You need to do it. You've put this off long enough." 9

She turned away from me, reaching over to the bedside table for the bottle of blue nail polish. Shaking it firmly, she unscrewed the lid and wiped the brush once against the inside opening of the bottle. 10

"But what if he doesn't believe me?" I asked her, pulling the sheet up over my hairy chest. I wasn't cold, but the thought of someone knowing my secret frightened me. Especially a stranger. Popular knowledge said that doctors were trustworthy, but who could resist telling such a juicy story to their friends after work? 11

I didn't think my heart could take it, if they did.12

"Manuel," Marla said, flashing me an acid glare. "I told you what to do." 13

"Yes, Marla," I said, feeling the coolness of the air currents from the ceiling fan strike my sweaty face. 14

"Good boy," she said, smiling tightly with her dark red lips. Everything about Marla was sharp; her hairstyle, curling into hairsprayed-rigid points; her eyelashes, black and long, like centipede legs; her wit. She could slice me into a thousand pieces with a single observation.15

She was a hard woman, my Marla, but she was good to me. Just like my mamma and my grandmamma before her, she knew what was best.16

"What are you still sitting there for?"17

I jumped a little. Marla looked at me with disgust, the nail polish brush held forgotten above her left foot. 18

"What?"19

"Don't 'what' me, Manuel. Go downstairs and call the doctor. You need to get your little problem taken care of." 20

"But..."21

"-Now-, Manuel." 22

It was no use arguing with her. I wouldn't win. I'd tried before in the past, many a time. It never worked. In our household, ever since we'd married, Marla was always right. Even when she was wrong, she was right.23

Without another word, I got out of bed and walked downstairs, the tropical morning heat hanging so thickly by the open windows that it was almost hard to breath. I longed to go upstairs to the bedroom, shut the door behind me, and breath in the refreshing cool of the window-mounted air conditioner and the ever-present hum of the ceiling fan. When Marla asked me for when I'd made the appointment, I'd lie and say that it was for next Wednesday and that...24

No. I couldn't lie to her. Marla would be able to tell. She could sniff the lie out of me, just like Grandmamma could whenever I snitched some cookies from the old cookie jar. 25

Grumping to myself, wishing I was more of a man like my brothers were, that I could stand up to my woman and tell her what to do, I grabbed the telephone mounted on the kitchen wall. 26

Still feeling the sting in my heart, I dialed the doctor's number and I made an appointment for the next day. 27

*~*~*~*~*28

"Ah, Mr. Ortiz," Dr. Jelaphero greeted from beneath his bushy white moustache. "What seems to be the problem today?" 29

"Well, I..." I trailed off, unable to bring myself to say the words. 30

"Yes?"31

The image of Marla's angry face flashed before my eyes. She'd find out if I didn't get this taken care of. She'd -know-. 32

"Um. I, uh, I have a problem."33

Dr. Jelaphero peered at me with his kindly gray eyes. He'd been my doctor ever since I'd been a little boy. I liked to think that he liked me as a person, but that was dumb. I was probably just confusing his professional courtesy as genuine affection. I did that a lot. Once, I'd even hugged a Salvation Army Santa after he'd wished me a merry Christmas. 34

Marla had never let me forget about that one.35

"Now, now, Mr. Ortiz. Don't be shy. Tell me what's wrong." 36

Dr. Jelaphero looked so friendly. He was an aging hippy -- he wore his hair long, down to his shoulders, and he still had a fading peace sign tattoo on his left hand. His wire-rimmed glasses partially obscured his upper face, but he always seemed to radiate good feelings. 37

If anyone could understand, it was Dr. Jelaphero. Taking a deep breath, I summoned my courage.38

"My problem is, doctor, that I've accepted Jesus Christ into my heart as my lord and savior." 39

"Oh dear," Dr. Jelaphero said. "You, too?" 40

"What?" I gasped. 41

"My dear boy," Dr. Jelaphero laughed, "did you think you were the only one?"42

I shrugged. "Well, yeah." 43

Much like the mythical St. Nicholas, Dr. Jelaphero's extended stomach -did- shake like a bowl full of jelly. "Just this morning, I treated two sisters barely half your age who were so infected that one of them even though she was going to become a nun. A -nun-! Can you believe it? In this day in age?" 44

He chortled loudly, tiny flecks of his spit landing on my cheek. I brushed them off, managing a weak chuckle of my own. At least I wasn't -that- bad. Although I had to admit that the thought of dumping Marla and running off to join some all-male group of robe-wearing cenobites made me smile. I tried to imagine what I'd look like in a priest's collar, but couldn't quite manage it. It was such an archaic institution, the priesthood. People had stopped going into seminary school long before I'd ever been born, long before the current Age of Reason.45

Such religious acts were ancient history. I'd be free of them, too, just as my society was, if I could only get my heart condition fixed. Jesus Christ needed to be removed.46

"So can you help me, doctor?" 47

"Oh, Mr. Ortiz, you'll be perfectly fine. It can happen to anyone these days. A person feels the slightest bit of emptiness, the slightest bit unhappy, and they get a hole in their hearts just the right size for something like Jesus to crawl into." 48

He leaned in towards me. "It happened to me once, too, you know." 49

"No!" I gasped.50

"Yes, son. My mother had just passed away and, I regret to tell you, I was thinking about spiritual matters." 51

"In this day in age?"52

Dr. Jelaphero shook his head. "Even in this age of enlightenment, Mr. Ortiz, Jesus Christ can still get to you. Thankfully, I recognized the symptoms at once; the feelings of -belonging-, the desire to convert others, the refusal of certain, logical, everyday actions because you decide that they're -immoral-." 53

"That's exactly what I'm feeling," I cried. "Why, just yesterday I almost caused a traffic accident by braking when an animal ran out in front of my car!" 54

"Ah, I see. No logical person would have risked his own life for that of a mere beast." 55

"But, because Jesus Christ was inside of my heart, I suddenly felt terribly bad about killing a helpless kitten," I explained, eager to get it out of me to Dr. Jelaphero's sympathetic ear, "so I swerved and slammed on the brakes. The car behind us almost hit us." 56

"It was very foolish of you," Dr. Jelaphero said. 57

"That's what Marla told me," I said, nodding. "She asked me what I'd been thinking --"58

More specifically, she'd asked me what the fuck my problem was, was I a fucking lunatic? I'd almost gotten her killed! 59

"-- and that's when I told her about Jesus Christ worming his way into my heart." 60

"Worse than a parasite, isn't it?" 61

"Yes, sir." 62

"Well, you certainly needn't worry," Dr. Jelaphero said. "I'm writing you a prescription for two week's worth of Camusinin, which should help clear you heart problems in no time." 63

"Really, doctor?" 64

He patted my shoulder with his big, paternal hands. 65

"You'll be a right-thinking individual in no time, son." 66

He tore the prescription paper off of his pad and handed it to me. 67

"Thank you so much, Dr. Jelaphero," I said, feeling better than I had in ages, even while, inside of my heart, Jesus Christ murmured his strange misgivings. 68

"Don't forget to stop at the front desk," Dr. Jalephero said, exiting the room without a backward glance. 69

I patted my wallet sticking out in a bulge on the back of my pants. I would need it to pay for the doctor's visit. After all, Marla and I didn't have health insurance.70

*~*~*~*~*71

The inscription on the pill bottle warned that this would happen. I'd read it several times before taking the round, gray pills daily. It would take two weeks to flush Jesus out of me. Two long weeks of tossing that dry, powdery pill into my mouth, sucking out all of the moisture until I could swallow it down with the metal-tasting tap water from the sink. 72

"Is it gone yet?" Marla asked me, again and again, and each time I shook my head "no" although sometimes I was tempted to say "yes" and then "gotcha" when her face lit up in happiness, but no. 73

I've seen Marla when she's angry. It's not a pretty sight. If I see her again like that, her face turned splotchy red with narrowed eyes and pressed lips, absolute murder leaking from her like a miasma, then maybe I'd have a moment of weakness and invite Jesus back into my heart. 74

Then I'd be doomed to another two weeks of medication, and that was something I really wanted to avoid. 75

This morning, though, the thing that the medicine had been trying to do finally succeeded. I felt the beginning of a series of searing cramps. 76

Jesus was ready to come out. 77

Trying to ignore Marla's words of encouragement, I made my way to the bathroom and shut the door to be alone with the pain. Somehow, the medicine had forced Jesus out of my heart, into my stomach and down through my bowels. He was coming out of me, in jerking, unwilling motions. 78

It was the worst constipation I'd ever experienced. 79

I grabbed my knees as I felt another fiery burst. Slowly, painfully, I was forcing Jesus Christ out. I would make him leave me alone, leave me empty again so that I could do the things I needed to do to get by. I couldn't have him interfering in my life, no matter how different he'd made me feel. After all, the braking-for-animals thing hadn't been the worst of it, not by a long shot. 80

Soon after I'd first discovered he was there, Jesus had told me to leave Marla. Jesus told me that she was making me unhappy, that I'd be a better person without her. When Marla had found out about my heart problem, I'd told her everything in a moment of panic.81

There was no way out of it, after that. Marla would make sure of it. Jesus would have to go.82

With a grunt of pain, I gasped a breath through gritted teeth and clenched my eyes. Sweating, I arched my back as I forced something out of me. It fell into the toilet water with a loud 'plop' and I felt my spine relax. I leaned against the back of the toilet as I got my breath back. 83

The bathroom door opened and Marla stuck her head in. "Are you done?"84

"Yeah," I said, standing and pulling up my pants. I felt sore back there, too tender to sit comfortably again for the next few hours, but I would heal. My jeans button slide through the hole and I zipped the zipper to the top. 85

Marla walked into the bathroom, her blue-painted nails gleaming at me like the glint off of a scalpel. 86

"Let me see," she ordered. I scurried over to the wall as she marched forward. Together, we leaned over the toilet to see the thing floating on the water.87

It was still alive. It was wiggling, at least, its little arms jerking to keep itself afloat, the tiny legs kicking at the water, trying to swim its way to the sides of the bowl. 88

Jesus was perfectly proportioned, about the size of my thumb. Despite its small stature, I could make it out its face with absolute clarity. The brown eyes stared up at me, imploring, while its little mouth opened and closed in silent pleas. It was wearing a pure white robe, somehow unstained despite the passage Jesus had taken from my heart to the toilet bowl. Its brown hair floated all around it like a halo. It didn't seem to be able to swim, but then, it also wasn't drowning. 89

And to think, this thing had been inside of my heart. 90

Marla sniffed, looking displeased. "This is what the fuss has been all about? How pathetic." 91

She turned to me. "I'm going downstairs to make some popcorn. You want some?" 92

I shook my head, silently, and she left me alone. 93

Jesus was clawing desperately at the sides of the toilet bowl, but the sides were too smooth. There weren't any handholds for it to get out. 94

It was strange. When Jesus had been inside of me, I'd thought of it as a "him," like a real person. But now, looking at the human-shaped creature flailing in the murky water, I couldn't think of it as a "him." Jesus was an "it," a nothing creature like the kitten I'd swerved to avoid. 95

My actions seemed foolish now. It made sense that the kitten should die. I was more important that it, just as I was more important that the Jesus swimming around in the toilet water. 96

That was the way society worked these days. We were enlightened now. We had cold, calculated reasoning on our side. We didn't need anything else to operate, to survive. There was nothing else out there to guide us, only a horrible parasite that crawled its way into a person's heart, making them think in ways that shouldn't be thought by anyone with a proper education. 97

Glaring down at Jesus Christ, I pressed the handle on the toilet. The water began to swirl down the drain, carrying Jesus along in an unrelenting spiral to oblivion. 98

It gave me one last pleading look, its mouth opening to pray for me, perhaps, or forgive me for my sins. 99

Whatever. It was done. I'd taken my medication and I was free of Jesus Christ forever. 100

The toilet water stopped swirling and a single, miniature leather sandal, like something from the foot of an ancient carpenter, floated to the top of the water. I looked at it for a second, and then pressed the toilet's handle again. 101

This time, the drain sucked everything completely down, returning nothing but clear water. 102

I walked out of the bathroom and went downstairs where Marla sat, scowling. 103