A Crusade of Unholiness

Gerald Kane knew he was going to Hell. The things he did, the unholy crimes he committed, the many acts he took part in that went against that ultimate figure: God. He knew these things would someday catch up to him and he would pay for his misdeeds. He would have a heart attack, he would forget to signal and be struck by a logging truck, it would end someday. Did he WANT to go to Hell, where he would be tortured and maimed and burned for all of his misdeeds for the rest of eternity? Not exactly, but Gerald Kane would prefer Hell to that other place, the place of eternal light and joy, the place of plenty and of non existing sorrow...Some people may look at his theories and shake their heads, and possibly cross their hearts...but Gerald knew his own mind, and he knew what his misdeeds entitled. He knew where he was going, and he welcomed it with arms wide open. The question that people always asked him after they finally figured him out was this: Why? Why would a man of faith, a man devoted to his religion, want to go to the Land of Fire? Most thought that the whole idea of having a religion was for the afterlife that it granted...Gerald never answered these people, but the answer was really quite simple: He HATED God. With ever ounce of his soul, his heart, his very BEING, he HATED that overrated bastard. He knew that he would, too, until the day that he died. A small part of his mind hoped that when he got to Hell, the demons there would grant him a bit of reprieve due to the fact that he had an enemy that was also their enemy...but he doubted it. Hell was Hell, no matter how much you hoped and prayed.1

Yes, Gerald prayed. To whom, you may ask? Even HE didn't know the answer to that question...yet he prayed nonetheless. Every night, he would fold his hands together and simply pray, not to anyone in particular, but afterwards he said "thank you" and "amen" and went to bed, never questioning, always doing. It brought him peace and he smiled often. 2

Those aforementioned 'deeds' which he had committed...was still committing, actually...that was a side of Gerald's personality that nobody generally saw. Only his victims saw him this way, and they didn't see him for very long, because Gerald had become addicted to something that normally people did not become addicted to:3

Killing people.4

He knew what he was doing, he knew that someday he might be caught and tried and killed, but he didn't care. Anything to get back at that son-of-a-bitch God. He didn't consider himself mentally unstable, but anyone who spent a day with him definitely would. What constituted mentally unstable anyways? And who were those bastards to judge him? Compared to the all-mighty GOD, he wasn't even a speck on the radar of leading causes of deaths! Don't get into an argument with Gerald about his addiction...he would have PLENTY of evidence to prove himself not-guilty.5

And you would probably die anyways.6

Gerald was very secretive about who he dispatched. He didn't just walk into a grocery store, guns blazing, and hope for the best. His tool of choice was a large hunting knife that he kept concealed in a hidden pocket of his overcoat. He tried his best to not kill people that he knew or had any social contact with, but he was tempted so many times...Some people just didn't deserve to live. Any type of minority, of course. They're automatic targets. Absolutely ANY type of religion, they need to go...Overweight people didn't count as a minority because Gerald lived in New Jersey, thus America, thus the fat people were almost the majority...he killed them nonetheless. They made the strangest noises when he stabbed them in the stomachs...7

Killing was not the only thing Gerald did to go against His Holiness. If he saw a cross drawn on the side of a building, he would come there late at night and spray paint it into a swastika, if he knew that there was going to be a large gathering of religious folks, he would attend and cause general havoc. Clogging the toilets, poisoning certain food items, yanking on table clothes, coughing in the middle of a sermon, shutting off the power...It was all OK with him.8

Why did he hate God? 9

An incident occurred in Gerald's childhood. He was thirteen, and a devoted Catholic, and he had a crush on the prettiest girl in school, Lisa Lyndwater. She was amazing, her hair the color of caramel, her body like a meandering river, her eyes, points of light in a cave of darkness. One day; it was a cold day, Gerald remembered, she handed him a note on the way out of class. It read "Jerald, or however you spell it, wanna hang out sometime?" Gerald's heart was fluttering all day, and the next day he talked to Lisa he thought of her in a completely different way.10

"I got your note."11

"Oh! Oh yeah!" She smiled at him and her face brightened. "So, do you wanna?"12

He grinned. "Yeah I will."13

The plan was to meet at Bronson Hill and ride their bikes around town, so Gerald spent the day getting his nice clothes together, combing his hair until it was just right, washing himself with his mom's best smelling soaps, and washing his bike until it was shiny and new-looking. Then the hour came and he rode his bicycle to the meeting spot. Traffic was thick and it took him several minutes to cross the road. He finally saw her, and they smiled at each other. 14

"Race you to the top of the hill!" She said and laughed. She began to pull into the road.15

Gerald didn't noticed the blue Chevrolet screeching and weaving through cars. He only finally noticed when he heard the sirens of the police cruiser hot on the Chevy's tail...and the blue Chevy was headed straight for Lisa.16

With one final smile and a wave, Lisa was struck by the car...17

And Gerald's life was over. Well, as he knew it.18

Gerald put a notch in his knife every time he killed somebody with it...currently, as he admired his past works, the knife was completely covered, it looked like one big notch...except for one, tiny little space in the wood hilt of the knife. The texture of the hilt was rough, and the only smooth part was that little section...that annoying little section. Gerald knew that this kill would have to be special, possibly his last one. He worked as a script writer for a news station, so most of his work was done at home. He had plenty of time for planning...and he knew that he didn't want to die from these idiots. He wanted to go out with a bang, with a heave, with a push. He would kill his final kill...then take his own life. The ultimate sin. The one you can only commit once. That was probably the only sin that Gerald hadn't committed, other than the obvious ones like adultery. He surveyed the internet...19

A Benedictine monk was visiting the city he lived in, giving a sermon, kissing some babies, and handing out small bibles...20

Perfect.21

Gerald always felt slightly omnipotent when he was preparing to execute a kill...he called his knife The Rambonator, and carried a very small derringer pistol in his inside pocket. He also carried a small can of mace for any victims that he didn't choose to kill at that moment...which didn't include many people. He had quite an arsenal for a television station script writer...and he knew that he would win in any fight, which made him feel like quite the bad ass. 22

The doors to the church were heavy and elegant. He entered, right at the tail end of the monk's sermon. Some of the audience glanced at him as he took a seat at the back of the arrangement of steel chairs. 23

"For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory. For ever and ever," the monk finished, "Amen." 24

As the audience formed a line to collect their small orange bibles, Gerald joined in about the middle. The line kept moving along...He was closer now, and he reached for the hilt of the knife. 25

Closer now.26

He could smell the monks robe.27

Two people away....28

One...29

With a quick and practiced movement of his hand, Gerald stabbed the knife deep into the monk's rib cage. The audience screamed and the monk screamed "DEAR LORD!"...Gerald felt a moment of pure ecstasy, his pants tenting slightly...he was always sexually aroused when these moments came, for a reason that was unknown to him. He gazed into the dying eyes of the monk and asked him this:30

"Where's your God now, hmm? Where's your God now?"31

And the monk died.32

Gerald turned and saw a man approaching him. He was the symbolic hero, the do-gooder, the one who never backed down...Gerald looked at this man and smiled. "Think about this moment and ask yourself, 'Is He really up there?' The answer to that question is yes, He is up there, but he stopped caring about you and I a looooong time ago."33

Gerald jabbed the knife into his own heart...feeling the incredible pain and coldness of the blade enter him. He immediately started to feel dizzy and unaware...but he pulled out the knife, and even as he fell...34

He bit one more notch into the hilt, and died.