March, 2013

It reminded him of the Christians down the street with eight kids. They’d followed the Priest (who should know, being a Father to thousands, and all) in his wishes for the community to forget contraception. Well, God’s wishes.

They were already a few in then but seemed to sprout them sooner too, like God’s wishes were inspiring their loins to work harder at his most important request.

Then at some point they must have asked: when will God cease putting children at our table? When our mother’s hips are worn, her legs crippled and our bank accounts gone? That’s when he would cease! Unless it was meant that they should stop altogether? But how could they? God had graced their bed, love in their hearts!

So they bought condoms – they must have – eight and a mini bus in, just so they didn’t have so many that they’d have to set them mowing lawns up and down the town, washing cars too, just to feed the things. Because there’d never be enough lawns to mow, or cars to wash, to appease God – the biggest capitalist of them all!

Did they find another religion then, he thought? One more accommodating, or did they take another reading of their own, one that would allow them a precaution against poverty?

The fools, he thought.

by Sparrokei