God is Dead
It is one o'clock in the afternoon. I am trying to convert an old woman to AT&T over a ham and cheese sandwich. I hear the background music of Bob's lesbian porn playing through the cubicle wall as I drag a queen of spades over a jack of hearts.

"Oh now I think it's so nice that you're going to take care of the puppies," says the woman, "Why, I used to have a golden retriever when I was little and I just loved i--"

"Ma'am," I say through a bite of my sandwich, "AT&T can offer you free weekends on all calls to the US and Ca--"

"--t so! And it used to bring in the newspaper and fetch sticks. Oh, but then it got run over by a car. That was quite sad, yes."

"--nada. Which, is much better than Sprint MCI."

"Oh, is it better than AT&T, honey? Because that�s what I use, you see" she says.

"We are AT&T, ma'am," I reply. I watch as the cards burst all over the screen, and restart my game.

"Oh, well, you people do quite a good job with my phone bills. You see, Sprint MCI--"

"Yes, I know all about Sprint MCI, ma�am."

"Oh, good, well then you'd know that they're a very reliable service. I use them, you know."

"I thought you used AT&T?"

"Would you like some cookies?"

"Have a good day ma'am, and thank you for choosing AT&T."

"Oh is that what I use? Well you people are quite the wonderful service! Drop by for Christmas sometime! My address is 207 Spickard Street in Alb--"

I hang up the phone.

"Another crazy one?" asks Bob from beyond the wall. "Holy shit dude! Come over here and look at the size of this one's tits! They�re fucking huge!"

"Jesus Bob, you're at work, why don't you shut that thing up and make some calls."

"I did, man, don't be so uptight!" replies Bob, "And I have a date tonight with some chick named Brenda. Pretty sweet, huh? I heard the porn in the background. Dude, I bet it was lesbo porn too!"

"In that case, it's probably some transvestite with a dick the size of a telephone pole."

"Don�t care, man, don't care. Try to rain on my parade all you want. If this chick turns out to be a dude, I'll just do him up the ass."

I wrinkle my nose.

"Jesus, you're fucked up."

  massacred halos two days before Easter Sunday
He figures that it'll be alright as he sits on the shingled roof of the toolshed, which is perched precariously on the roof of the school building. The day is dreary and wet and humid like that of a summer-hazed seaside only without the condolances of the crashing waves. He thinks it's beautiful, the way the spears of cement burst, lazy and vague, through the veil of clouds. It was just like how it was beautiful when he first kissed him on the glassed-splattered marble floors beneath the watchful eyes of a stone-set emperor. It had been beautiful how those blue, blue, piercing blue eyes clouded and fogged while black clumps of sight clawed and condemned.