Revelations(8)

It’s so unbalanced. And I’m tired of hearing those who say, well, if a person makes all that money, he should be able to keep it for himself. I think that’s a damn selfish attitude, ’cause face it, some people will never have the chance to even live, much less worry about accumulating money. It’s just annoying to me. And yet at the same time I know the winds of change are in the air; there are people who aren’t content to sit back and allow the rights of others to be trampled upon. There are good people who want to make a difference. They’re trying. You can find them all over the world, and that’s a good thing.

As for Judas, he may consider me homophobic, but that purely isn’t true. I just hate him, and I would no matter what, were he heterosexual or bisexual or anything else. Sorry, that’s just the way it is. Some of the other apostles are gay, I don’t hate them for it. I consider them to be my brothers, I love them sincerely.

Okay, maybe some of them more than others. I won’t deny it. I’ve slept with a few of them before, and shall continue to do so in the future. Nothing wrong with that, no matter what Mr. Iscariot thinks. And it isn’t as if he hasn’t also. Do I care? No, not at all. Would I care if he were ever to attain the biggest goal he seeks—namely, the Master? Believe it or not, no, I wouldn’t, because if Jesus chose to be with him, then I’d respect that decision. Maybe not understand it, but respect it, yes.



Do I think Jesus will ever do that? Do I think he feels any of the things which Judas so obviously does for him? I couldn’t and I wouldn’t presume to say. That’s not my call to make. All I do know is Jesus and I’ll never share such an intimacy because neither of us desires it, and I’m content with that. Will I ever tell Judas that? Fuck no. That’d deprive me of the opportunity to annoy him.

So, to get back on track, why do people think being gay is wrong, if God made homosexuals that way? It’s not a choice, nor is it the result of abuse. That theory really blows my mind. Seriously? Do you really think that many people, throughout the centuries, all just happened to be abused, and all of them turned homosexual? I don’t think so. What about little girls who are abused by males, is that why they turn out to be heterosexual? No, of course not. And with mankind’s current knowledge of genetics, especially, why is it so difficult to understand that gay people were made the way they are, just as straight people were made the way they are—and God loves them all equally? Christians do not have the corner on God’s love, let me throw that in there, while I may. He loves everyone on this earth. No exception. No matter their color, race, creed, or sexual orientation—

they’re all His children.

Well, I think my point’s been made, and I’m tired of talking about it anyway.

Besides, I’m almost ready to launch my current plan to annoy the bejesus out of Judas. It’s a joke, you’re free to laugh.

I don’t travel with them as much as I once did, not in this lifetime. As I said, I’ve been doing my own thing, and very well at that. But I catch up with them when I can, of course. And I stay in touch with them. Ah, the miracles of cell phones, email, and text messaging. I just love these times we live in. Anyway, I know where they are right this moment, in fact, and as I’ve been penning this, I’ve been en route to their location—having been apprised of their whereabouts by my sweet little Matthew—and I’ve bribed him not to say a word that I’m coming. You gotta love modern air travel, ya know?

My secretary is with me, her name is Ruth. No, not that Ruth, just a coincidence. Quiet little thing, on the meek side. And no, she knows nothing of any of us. What she sees is what she knows. Which is why I’m going to leave her at the hotel, once we arrive, at least for now. But as for myself, I’ve other plans, and once we land, I quickly put them into motion.

I rent a vehicle—a Humvee, because it appeals to my sense of humour, for some reason. I change from my traveling clothes into something a bit more salacious, a bit more calculated to send Judas’ blood pressure skyrocketing—not from covetousness, far from it, but from jealousy. Maybe I’m going a little bit overboard, but I don’t really care. My skirt’s as short as I can manage without violating any local decency laws, and diaphanous as hell; my heels are black stilettos, and I’ve doused myself in the most seductive scent I can find. Just for kicks, I give the clerk at the rental counter a good hard look down into my cleavage

—he’ll have lovely dreams tonight, no doubt, and then I set out to find them, using the GPS so thoughtfully provided with the vehicle.