My lover and I were sitting at the diner, drinking coffee, when a young priest approached us. He ranted about how we were living in sin and how he would pray for us. I made a mental note of what church he attended; and, my lover shook her head. She knew I wouldn’t let it go.
Saturday night, before church on Sunday, it was really easy; I snagged a boy from the playground. And, luckily, he fit into the choirboy uniform that I’d stolen from a costume shop. It wasn’t completely authentic, but I was happy with it. Then, I sedated the young boy and drove to the church. At dusk, it was quite eerie; and, I liked it…that big church building that was more grotesque than anything.
The priest looked shocked to see me, but I knew that he was alone; I knew his routine by now. I never leave things up to chance. I threw the boy down at his feet and his mouth dropped. “I brought you that sacrificial lamb that you’ve been drooling after,” I said between my teeth. He shook his head, but he couldn’t avoid my confrontation. I leaned over the alter and looked him squarely in the eyes. “I know what you like to do, Father,” I said with a sneer. “More like wolf,” I laughed. It was so simple, really: the more that I talked about the young boy’s flesh, the more he looked like a cherub to the priest. And soon, there the priest was…leaning down over the bate.
I taunted him and told him to get on with it and defile the lamb. He balked at first; looking at me with large eyes, he tried to rationalize what he wanted to do. “Even if you are the Devil, God has sent you…brought him through you. So, God must want me take this precious boy and show him grace.” “Why don’t you take that grace out of your pants, Father?” I snickered and walked around the two bodies. He brushed the little boy’s hair off the face; and, I could tell by the twitching that the boy was waking up. The priest bent down, shaking, craving the boy’s penis in his mouth. And, suddenly, the boy shot up, the razor clutched in his hand…and stabbed the priest directly in the throat. The boy could not have done better if he had aimed. I watched the boy become covered in blood; and, as the priest took his last gargled, bloody breaths, the boy looked up at me with a smile. Maybe I had found a kindred spirit, too, I thought.
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