Edward strolled out of the ‘office’
and onto the street. Well…not so much ‘strolled’, more
like moped. His feet dragged behind him, and his shoulders hung so low,
that his hands were by his knees. His head was drooped forward, making
Edward look like some sort of hunchback. The fun and enjoyment of work
invokes these effects, but so do drugs, but they’re not important
Edward wore a thick brown overcoat. Beneath that was a black T-shirt.
Standard shirts cost as little as a fiver. But his shirt had a tiny logo
on the corner, so he was forced to spend about seventy pound on it. He
also wore some jeans and had plain white trainers, covered in enough grease
and grime to make a few burgers.
Edward was quite tall, and was slim. He wasn’t exactly skinny…he
was more…a weed. His arms were like bamboo canes, but he had a bit
of flab on his stomach. His party trick was grabbing the rubbery skin
of his stomach and making a face out of it, which normally cleared the
room of most of the females. He’d then normally make it talk as
well. No surprise then that he was single too.
His face was like a shield. Only in shape though. He’s weak enough
to get a nosebleed from brushing his teeth. He had messy gold-coloured
hair. It was relatively short, but it was still…well…just
messy! There’s no other way of describing it. He tried gel, moose,
even straightners to sort it out. But nothing worked. It could have been
something to do with the fact that he used all three of them at once and
caused his hair to catch alight, but many believe that his hair is just
messy, and that’s the way it will always be.
So, Edward was moping along the pavement, dwelling on his enjoyable day,
and telling himself repeatedly not to go into work tomorrow. It happened
every day, but he always ended up going into work the next day. Mother’s
can force you to do things like that you know.
Yes, he lives with his parents too. He’s twenty two, but never went
to university. On his first day, he managed to break five computers, take
out a door, cause a fire in the kitchen and put seven people in casualty.
He was kicked out for ‘Causing disruption ’, ‘Vandalism’
and ‘Being a loser’. It may seem good that he doesn’t
have the student loan to pay off, but he used most of his money paying
compensation to the injured people, and also ‘protection money’
to the senior staff of the university. So, with hardly any money, Edward
had to stay at home with his parents, and find a job to earn his living.
On his way home, he was splashed twice buy a car driving past a puddle,
and oddly enough, it was the same car both times. He was hit with a water
balloon pelted out of the upper window of a double-decker bus, and was
shouted and sworn at buy a fifty four-year-old driver, who accused Edward
of giving him wrong directions seven-months ago. The lollipop man also
nearly got Edward run-over, as he told him to cross, just as a couple
of sixteen-wheelers were tearing down the road.
Edward finally made it to his home, and after entering, collapsed in a
little heap. His mother had to move him though, so she could close the
“Hello Ed.” She crooned
“Humph” Edward replied
“Nice day at work?”
“That’s nice, why don’t you have a lie-down upstairs?”
Edward heaved himself up and dragged himself upstairs. His mother was
a very understanding one. Throughout his teenage years, she learnt his
‘code of indefinable answers’, which is simply what the grunts
and noises students make mean. Just look at a teenager who does that,
you’ll notice a difference in their tone, pronunciation and effort
in each ‘humph’. She had now learnt that “Humph”
meant ‘Hello’, and “Bleeugh” meant ‘My day
has been utter shit, leave me alone so that I may curl up and die.’
Edward flopped on his bed, and lay face down, with his arms and legs sprawled
over his mattress. He moaned, but it came out as a load of muffled gibberish.
He wondered what on earth he was going to do with his life. It was in
such a state. He had a crummy job, hardly any money, no degrees or qualifications,
no girlfriend, no proper house, and incredibly low prospects.
He was incredibly depressed, but decided to do a bit of ‘reading’.
He threw his arm over to the side of his bed, and groped around for any
of his ‘Adult Art Mags’. He believed that he was entitled
to them, as he didn’t have a girlfriend, so he should be allowed
to see what those who do have one, are also seeing. Complete bullshit,
but he was proud of his logic.
He was scrambling around, and picked up a book. He rolled over to start
reading, but his slightly contented smile was blasted off like a snail
being hit by a bazooka. He had picked up the ‘Good News Bible’.
He wondered how on earth it ended up in his ‘collection’.
As good Bibles should all be, they didn’t have any sort of ‘Adult
Art’ in them. His friends at school often looked through it to try
and find naughty pictures or interpret the ones there (As most school
kids do with any sort of textbook they’re given. Even the ones without
pictures. They just look for words like ‘bottom’ or, ‘bum’
or ‘blow’, and then start giggling in the corner or at the
back of the room, turning bright-red, as the teacher asks them to explain
the reason for their laughter) But to no avail.
He was going to throw the book on his pile of junk, which he built up
since he was six. It had now reached the ceiling, and his mother had often
threatened to set fire to it, if he didn’t clean it up. But he noticed
that the bible had a dent in the front. Then he remembered how he had
got it. Oddly as a coincidence, he got the dent and the bible at the same
time he lost his faith seven years ago. He could remember the incident
as if it was yesterday.
Edward used to be quite a religious person. He’d go to mass, say
prayers. Nothing too fancy, just doing what ordinary Christians generally
do (Well, actually, more like ‘should do’), but anyway, he
was the religious sort. He had even been an altar server at his local
That’s where it went wrong. As there was some of the wine left after
the ‘Communion’, Edward was left to drink it. It wasn’t
much, just a tiny drop.
But in the end, he ended up drunk and dancing the ‘YMCA’ on
the altar. On its own, it was quite a shock for people, but to make matters
worse, it was the Bishop’s annual visit. So, Edward had the book
thrown at him. Many in fact. Mostly Bibles.
As he ran out of the Church, Bibles were flying past him. Then one hit
him squarely in the head. He collapsed forward, falling down the stairs
as he did so. He decided to keep the Bible, it was a memento, as it had
the groove of his skull in it. He was just getting up, onto his feet again,
when the Bishop appeared behind him. Edward turned around.
The Bishop had wild, staring eyes, and was breathing deeply through his
nose. Edward decided to try and lighten the situation.
“Good morning! Isn’t it just lovely weather we’re having?
Almost makes you want to go outside and pray!”
The Bishop’s eyes widened and his breathing hastened, his nostrils
Edward didn’t know how to reply.
“You little bastard you. Getting drunk and dancing on God’s
Edward wanted to comment on the Bishop’s bad language, but he knew
that that would have made things worse.
“You need redemption! And being of the highest religious authority
at this moment in time, in this location, I’ll be the one delivering
Edward started to get worried, he hoped that the Bishop would give him
a Rosary and tell him to pray a few times. Unfortunately, it wasn’t
the case. Edward could tell, because the Bishop suddenly took his crook
in both hands, holding it almost like a weapon.
He drew it behind his head in the same way a person with a sledgehammer
would prepare to hammer a post in. Edward had a sick feeling that he’d
be the post.
“And now, you little prick…I’LL SMITE YOU GOOD!”
Edward screamed and started sprinting, as the Bishop’s crook smashed
down in the place where he had stood.
“GET BACK HERE YOU! I’LL SMITE YOU GOOD WHEN I CATCH YOU!”
And so, Edward sprinted all the way to his house, holding the Bible under
his arm, while a sadistic maniac chased him, shouting about how he’ll
‘smite him so hard, that his kidneys would say hello to his lungs’.
Edward finally smashed through his front door, with the Bishop in hot
“HIDE ME!” Edward screamed, as he hid behind his mother.
The Bishop raced in, booting down the door.
“Oh, hello Bishop Graham” Edward’s mother said
“Hello Fiona. Pardon the intrusion, just escorting little Edward
home. We were playing…er…tag!”
“That’s nice. Isn’t he a nice man Edward? Playing your
little games with you. Oh look! He even gave you a Bible.”
Edward was still quivering, refusing to take his eyes of the manic bishop.
Fiona turned to calm him down, and was no longer facing Bishop Graham.
Edward looked on in horror, as the Bishop stuck two fingers up, pointed
at his eyes, and then at Edwards, basically saying “I’m watching
Bishop Graham then drew his finger across his neck, basically saying “You’re
He then picked up a piece of string, and made a quick knot, making the
string a noose. He then pointed at Edward, and pointed at the noose, whilst
smiling, but keeping the ‘evil eyes’. You don’t need
me to tell you what that meant.
Finally, he started waving his crook in the air, almost as if he was hitting
something. Edward had a good idea about what the Bishop wanted to be on
the receiving end.
Fiona then stood up and turned around.
“Thanks for bringing Ed home, Bishop”
Graham had quickly switched to his ‘sincere mode’.
“No problem Fiona! I look forward to seeing good old Ed again!”
As he said this, he leant forward and smiled at Edward. “Very soon.”
“Oh, and don’t worry, I’ll get this door replaced!”
He said as he left.
From then on, Edward continually got text messages on his phone. They
were from the Bishop, and all they said were “Smite, smite, smite”.
He got them at the same time every day. In the end, he had to phone up
his phone company and get the Bishop’s number blocked. And ever
since that day, Edward never set foot into Church again.
Edward gazed onto his battered Bible, remembering when
he was once religious.
The he suddenly thought…What if religion could be the escape of
He was surprised he didn’t think of it before. Maybe a bit of spiritual
healing could be what he needed to get his life in order. If he got spiritual,
then he would be more motivated, and would then have the energy to sort
his life out! Also, he thought that if he got religious again, he’d
win some brownie points with God, and maybe then win the lottery or inherit
a large sum of money, or even meet a rich girl who is totally attracted
He then decided that he might as well go to mass. So the next morning
he put on some smarter clothes, washed the grease out of his hands and
hair, and set off to his local Church.
He thought that he should be allowed to go back to his Church. After all,
it had been seven years, so maybe the priest has forgotten about it? Maybe
even forgave him?
He was a little bit late, Edward hid behind some latecomers and quickly
sat in the back bench, next to the aisle. He didn’t want the priest
to see him enter late, as that would be asking for trouble, so he just
sat back, out of view, and listened.
The priest was getting to the part where Jesus shared the body and blood.
The priest was lifting up the chalice of wine, and that’s when he
noticed Edward. He fell silent, and his eyes focussed on him. They pinpointed
him, and pierced the weak exterior of Edward. Edward saw the priest staring
at him, and slowly moved behind the man in front of him, so that he wouldn’t
make eye contact with the priest.
The priest carried on.
“He said ‘Take this all of you, and drink from it… But
not so much, that you get PLASTERED! AND START DANCING THE YMCA ON MY
FATHER’S HOLY ALTER!”
Edward froze, the priest had locked onto him, and everyone started turning
around to look at Edward. People began murmuring, trying to remind each
other of what Edward had done seven years ago. Strangely enough, Edward
felt very small at this moment in time.
He slowly rose from his seat, and backed out of the Church, he faced the
priest and the public, just so he could see what they were doing. Everyone
was silent as he left.
Edward walked out of the door, and turned the other way to set off home.
Just as he did so, a hard object struck him in the back of the head. Another
“I hit the heathen daddy!” He heard a young boy shout from
“Good work, son! That was a brilliant aim.”
Edward removed the Bible from the back of his neck, and started to peel
himself from the pavement upon which he was lying. Just as he did that,
he saw a shadow in front of him.
“I knew you would be back” Came a familiar, taunting voice
Edward didn’t dare look up, he knew who it was.
“And now, I’m going to do what I should have done seven years
Edward decided to face the facts. He gulped. “Smite me?”
“Well done! We are a smart one today! Now hold still…”
Edward scrambled up onto his feet and started running for his life.
“I’ll smite you good! And there’s no escape this time!
I passed your mother back at the shops!”
Edward cursed. He was right. His mother was shopping and his dad was playing
golf. He still decided to run.
“It’s no use! I’ll catch up with you, and when I do…I’LL
SMITE YOU GOOD!”
Edward was thankful that he was always late for work. His running every
morning had been good exercise, and it had started to pay off.
For the next hour, he was chased around the entire town, followed by a
Bishop Graham continued to hurl abuse. “Just you wait! As soon as
I gain on you…BAM…”
“You’re going to smite me?” Edward finished
“Don’t be a smart-arse! I’ll smite you double for that!”
And for some odd reason, Edward had begun to sprint faster.
In the end, Edward hid inside the windmill at the crazy
golf course, down his local park. It wasn’t a very clever hiding
place, as he was continually getting pelted with golf balls, but it was
a hiding place nonetheless, and he eventually lost Bishop Graham. The
golf balls hurt, but they were nothing compared to the Bishop’s
intended punishment. Edward made himself a future reminder.
“Note to self. Never go near that Church again.”