Heaven is full of arseholes

red headed boy in an embrace. “Your mother gave you to your father’s cruel punishment. They left you alone. You were hurt, but the only way you knew to express hurt was by hurting people, like your father, hurt you. You were messed up. It wasn’t your fault. It’s just a fucked up world.

I know your father did things, bad things. Nobody should ever have to confuse those sorts of things with love, but you did and that’s fucked up. I don’t want to hurt you. I just wanna say, fuck you Bradley” said The Father, squeezing the red headed boy tightly until the fibers of the boy’s heart bled from the pores of his skin and ran up The Father’s arms turning to a light cloud of dust by his eyes and then vanishing into nothingness.

“Keep moving” ordered a uniformed man, beating him over the head with his truncheon.

The Father leaned down carefully and collected his pile of clothes and continued walking down the corridor, pushing through the monsters of men who had encircled him, lifting his head high, looking left and right through every uniformed man standing about for the shape of his family.

The corridor seemed to stretch on forever and with every step he encountered more and more insult as if the will of heaven alone were to try and break him and to reduce him to nothing.

Whereas before, he looked only to his shuffling feet, now he stared each face long in the eye and counted familiarity in each stare looking back.

He had thought them all as mad strangers and this corridor as some carriage through hell, but now that he lifted his sight he could see it was oh so much worse. He knew all of the faces and remembered all of their affronting voices, each and every one having acted some cruel part in the absurd play of his life.

There was the guy who always begged for food at the corner of his work who would curse and bitch and moan irefully when he given what he asked instead of a trickle of gold coins. There were all of the drivers that had toiled with his days, the ones that cut him off, the ones that flashed their lights incessantly, the ones that honked and screamed like mating boars and the ones that never let him in.

There was his high school teacher; the one who ended up arrested for improper conduct, who thought he was doing all of the children a favor by smacking their hands with his correcting stick to teach them that reward was the absence of punishment. He stood there amongst the 33