Like, sin insurance. So I don’t have to worry about Hell or anything.
Like, sin insurance. So I don’t have to worry about Hell or anything.
It’s wrong to betray the trust of any loved one, if that’s what you’re asking.
SIN INSURANCE BY MICHAEL P FERRARI 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 02
Forgive me father, for I have sinned. It’s been—shit, how long has it been?” “Excuse me??” he says, half-alarmed. Like he’s never heard somebody curse before.
“Eight weeks-ish? Yeah…it’s been about eight weeks since my last confession.”
“It’s been a bit longer than eight weeks, Ricky.”
“Crap.”
“Honestly! What the hell is the matter with you??”
“You didn’t think I’d recognize your voice?” There’s a laugh at the end of his sentence. A small one.
“What??”
“Have a shred of reverence, will ya??”
“Heh…I’m plenty reverent.”
“Well, no, not really.”
“’Plenty reverent’?? This is my church, Ricky!”
“Well, you’re a retard,” he reminds me. “What’s on your mind?”
“I think I kind of did something bad, but I don’t know if it’s bad, so I wanted to come here and pass it through you. You know, cover my bases.”
“Cover your bases?” he asks. His Irish accent is so thick that it …