Deacon Clark handed Sister Rogue a stack of Bibles and instructed her to pass them out to his pupils. The hood of her nun costume retained heat like a tanning booth, any activity which involved heavy lifting, left her in a state of quasi-been-fucked. Deacon Clark grabbed a scarf out of his pocket, “here,” he said, gifting it to Sister Rogue as she approached him at the front of the classroom. “Wipe some of that sweat off…don’t worry…it’s clean.” “Why thank you.” She responded, inciting a forced smirk.
“Students. I’d like you to open up your Bible to Psalm 82.”
Cacophony of page flips intimidated silence to a corner of the room and it remained there, ready to pounce.
“Alvin if you could…would you read it aloud.”
He did as instructed, lowering his stare in a bashful air.
“Wonderful.” Deacon Clark said after Alvin finished. “Now. What do we think this verse means?”
Susie raised her hand. Deacon Clark called on her.
“Um, I think, um…like…it’s about God.”
“Mhmm. Yes. Good point. But what about God specifically?”
Billy raised his hand.
“Yes. Billy.” Deacon Clark said.
“See…I think it means we’re all Gods.”
“Yes. Billy. But what does that mean?”
“It means like,” Billy replied. “It means that God is inside us…all the times.”
“Exactly! You bring God everywhere with you. God created all of us! Which means we’re God.”
Alvin honed in on that statement and filed it to the forefront of his consciousness. He spent the last 20 minutes of class pondering which parts of his biology contained God. His nose? His boogers? If he sneezed was he rejecting God? He took these thoughts home with him. That night he laid on his back, atop his bed and pondered ways he could test the omnipotent portions of himself.
The following night Alvin set his lighter to spark when he switched his lamp on, to compare the reach of brightness gleaming from flame and wire. Lightbulb won. Humanity won. Next he dangled a piece of paper above the flame, and another above the lightbulb. The flame ignited the paper. His smoke alarm resounded cries like a wailing child. Alvin’s mother rushed to his room, saw the tiny fire. She commanded him to run to her side. He did so and together they ran to the kitchen, filled pots and pans with water and extinguished the fire.
“Jesus Christ!” She said. “What the Hell happened?”
“I was testing God…” He said whimpering.
“Testing God? What do you mean?”
“I wanted to find out if God, or…me…us…the light would, um, start a fire quicker.”
“What are you talking about. Never ever, ever, ever, do that again! Do you understand me?”
During Sunday school Alvin brought up his experiment to test God with Deacon Clark.
“Deacon Clark, if I may,” Sister Rogue interrupted. “I’d like to take this question.”
“By all means.” He replied.
“Alvin. Honey. Are you familiar with Paul?”
“See Paul. He made Christanity popular. He brought the word of God everywhere! He wouldn’t have been able to do this so efficiently without the construction of a road system. Do you understand what I am saying?”
“Not really.” Alvin said.
“God and man worked together in harmony to spread the word of the lord. It would’ve eventually happened, either way. For God finds a way. But if God is in you, he’s working through you. Whatever you do…is the work of God.”
Alvin wielded a sardonic expression. “So. What you’re saying is…when I set that paper on fire…God wanted it to happen?”
“Yes.” Sister Rogue replied, deadpan.
“Nobody knows but God.”
“But..if I am God shouldn’t I know the answer.”
“That’s enough for today Alvin. Now go take your seat. Class is about to begin.”
Alvin took a seat in the front row. For the rest of class he stared at the crucifix hung on the wall, above the chalkboard, behind Deacon Clark and Sister Rogue.
‘I guess I am a killer.’ He thought. ‘But I don’t know why.’