I used a prompt that is something like "seven days is different to a week" and all I could think about was the very first line of this piece :) From which came this.
If anyone does read this, could you kindly inform me what gender you see the narrator as? Thanks.
"In seven days, God created everything."
"Wrong," I whispered to Harry, sitting next to me. "He created everything in six days. The seventh day He rested."
"Shut up ya egghead or you'll have us thrown out."
"Well I'm just sayin', you don't needa get up in my grill 'bout it."
I'd never liked Church. The Preacher always preaching, the congregation always drinking his words like he was God himself. 'God's messenger' my arse. I bet ol' Samuel took the collection money back home for himself to feed his batty wife and their three cats. Loser. That's why I never added in anything, even though Mam always gave me twenty cents each Sunday. I usually spent it on coke on the way home. Harry disapproved – he genuinely liked Church – but I thought it was a waste of time. And Harry didn't mind so much when we were drinking coke and kicking bottles down the street. Harry even smoked around me, something he'd never do back home. His ol' man would clip him over the ear and throw him out the house, I'll tell you that.
"The boys are back in town," I whispered, "wanna see them after this crap?"
"It's not crap," Harry murmured back, "doncha ever believe anything?"
"Nah, it's all a load of laws that they've got goin' to keep us in line. There's no heaven or nothing, no hell, we're just meant to believe it so that we dun' do nothing stupid."
Ol' Missus Harthingway swivelled around in her pew to glare at me but I raised my middle finger at her and she turned away, a disgruntled look on her face. I didn't care.
"But whaddaya say? Wanna go see them?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "If I say yes will you shut up?"
"Don't yell goddam it, you wanna stay listening to this bullocks doncha?"
"Would you just shut it already?"
"I'm gonna take that as a yes, aight?"
Sometimes I wonder if there might be a God up there somewhere. I don't say nothing to Harry otherwise he'd laugh at me for suddenly changing my mind, but sometimes I do hope. Mam sure does believe in all that jazz, makes us pray every night 'fore bed and even orders me and the kids and even Pa to thank his Holiness for dinner. I guess it's a nice feeling to know that someone's watching out for ya, but I wouldn't ever tell Harry that. Still wouldn't donate the money Mam gives me, even if I did totally believe. I'm not that stupid. If God did exist then we wouldn't have none of these tornado's and earthquake's and everything that we hear about. No sirree, we would not. He's supposed to be a good fella, lookin' after all us down here on puny ol' Earth, not causing bleedin' disasters. Still, it's nice to think about it. Wouldn't wanna just stop after ya die, and let the worms eat your eyes and skin until your nothing but bones. At least Heaven sounds something nice, that's for sure.
"Eve tempted Adam with the apple of sin and he obliged, and God shut the gates of Eden on them."
"That's why everyone thinks women are devils," I told Harry matter-of-factly, "'cause she gave him the apple. That's why Mam is always gettin' in trouble with Pa. 'Cause she's a woman."
"Be quiet," someone in the pew behind us muttered.
"Yeah," Harry nudged me, "shut up. Hold your horses for a little longer and you can get outta here. But for now, stop talkin'."
"Gnaw Harry, you're no fun."
Someone coughed loudly behind us and I rolled my eyes and sat sullenly for a moment before I tried bribing Harry with "I'll donate my cents if we go see the boys after."
That got his attention and he looked at me with his eyebrows raised. "You mean that?"
"'Course," I lied.
"You promise? Swear? On Jesus's name?"
I faltered, not expecting the Jesus card. "Uh, yeah, sure," I said, hesistantly.
"Don't believe ya."
"Well don't then. But I ain't payin' for you to drink my coke, no sir I am not."
Harry frowned at me before facing back towards ol' Samuel, still going on about the sins we humans have committed and must repent so that "God'll let us in his pearly gates" or somethin' like that. I could tell that Harry was thinking it over though, so I stayed quiet until he whispered to me again.
"What if you buy us coke and then we go see the boys?" he suggested quietly.
"Now ya talkin'," I clapped him on the leg and he winced as the sound echoed around the church. "You got yourself a deal."