490 Words Plus A Sentence, AND One More To Boot.

I think I’m missing an assignment, but the Prof promised me extra credit, as long as I really “brought it” this week.

Damn. I could’ve used that extra credit…

Anywho, this week’s Master Class 2013 assignment had a bit of a switch in it, in that the prompt came from a song instead of a work of literature; to be used at the end of the submission. As such, and after reading the prompt, I decided to put one more switch into place, and also included a lyric at the beginning. One that was prompted by the prompt. Make sense?

Probably not. Regardless, I hope you enjoy, and invite you to please click on the MC2013 link above, in order to join in on the fun! You know you wanna…

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I’m standing in a line with a dirty mind. Clean it up on Sunday morning.

Yeah, yeah. Gotta go to Big God’s house today. Better clean up. Hide everything… get all the “stuff” put away. Yeah. He’ll never see it up there, tucked way away in the corner of my filthy little mind. All the things I want, all the things I crave. All the things I need, all the things I think would fulfill me. All the things that He said I can’t have, after He created them. Yeah, grab all that shit and hide it away.

Yeah. Put all that shit away. Just put it away, boy-O. No one, but no one, needs to know about all that. They don’t wanna know that you like it a little rough sometimes. No. Just sit there looking pretty. They don’t need to know that your first time wasn’t with the right sex. Oh, hell no! Just sit there with your eyes glued to the pulpit. They don’t wanna hear that you sometimes wish you could dress out here, the way that you dress behind closed doors. They don’t wanna know. They can’t bear to know the person that God made ya to be. They can’t stomach knowing how often you wanna share your love, and with how many different types you wanna share it. No. That would disgust them. They only wanna see the pin-striped, straight-jacketed version of the body that you deny weekly, all in an effort to appease them and their rules. To appease Him. Yeah. That’s what they want. That’s what He wants. Why’d He make you otherwise? Who knows? Cross-to-bear shit, I would imagine.

It don’t matter much. It’s His game, not mine. And every drop of sunshine he lets in, just confuses me more. I mean, why’d He give me these glimpses of happiness, only to have His tool of a shepherd-man tell me it’s all wrong, raining on the very parade He started? Gotta be cross-to-bear shit, man. Gotta be.

So you go on denying. You go on pretending that it’s girls you like, and white lace, and picket fences in the moonlight. You make sure you rough up your brows, just so no one notices that they look a little too nice otherwise. You keep grinning with that same stupid-ass grin you slather on your face every Sunday morning. The same stupid-ass grin your daddy slathered on his face before you. You grin it, and you ignore every last nerve inside of you, screaming to God for freedom in a world that He created, and then gave over to the power-hungry, the homophobes and the pricks.

I mean, why not, right? Cross-to-bear shit, man, cross-to-bear. Besides, it ain’t gonna rain unless it pours anyway. Until then, there’ll be no sun, and no rain. Just constant and oppressive pin-striped straight-jacketed grey. So what’s the point? Like daddy used to spit out through his stupid ass grin, well before the day he blew out his denial-doused brains, “No umbrellas, no sunglasses, hell and hallelujah everyday,” right?

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This week’s prompt came from Incubus’ “If Not Now, When?” and the subsequent prompt to the prompt came from The Bolshoi’s “Sunday Morning.” That’s right kids, that means it’s a double song day bonus!