Cassidy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
irish_vagabond) wrote2019-10-20 06:44 pm
irish_vagabond) wrote2019-10-20 06:44 pm
OOM - Sinner
Cassidy bonked Jesse on the nose with the flat end of the small fire extinguisher, and he crumpled down into the dirt, holding his face.
"So, how's it goin'?" Cassidy asked, as he settled down in the shade on the church steps. He had a ratty hoodie on as extra protection.
Jesse sniffed, wincing in pain. "Well, I got a bloody nose."
"That's not what I meant."
It was then that Cassidy saw the remorse in Jesse's eyes. Honestly, that was all he needed.
"I didn't mean to," Jesse sighed. "I said the words, and he was gone."
And that was all Cassidy needed to hear.
Tulip's family dinner had gone slightly awry a few minutes ago. Jesse was giving Tulip the silent treatment and pissing her off while Cassidy was extolling the cinematic virtues of the Coen Brothers (except for The Big Lewbowski; The Big Lebowski is shite) to Emily. Then when Sheriff Root came in asking if anyone had seen Eugene, and everyone flat out lied to his face, the smoke alarm went off, as Tulip's vanilla hash browns caught fire in the oven.
So, that was a bust.
But at least Jesse was talking now. And at least he acknowledged what he'd done. Sending Eugene to Hell was an accident.
"Y'know, I went to Atlantic City once with the wife of a Russian gangster, right?" Cassidy said. "And honestly, she was lovely. But Atlantic City turns out to be not much more than a shank of shite, so, y'know. We all make mistakes, don't we? All right, come on." He took Jesse's arm and helped him to his feet. "What's next? How can I help you?"
Jesse wiped his nose and dusted off his pants. "Well, maybe take a look at the balcony railing," he said, eyeing the church steeple. "See how busy we've got, be even busier come Sunday--"
"I meant, what're you gonna do about Eugene?" Cassidy interrupted.
But Jesse just looked at him kind of blankly. "Well, what can I do? You tell me."
"You just sent an innocent kid to be forever poked by piping-hot pitchforks! I think acting like you give a damn might be a good start, mate."
"He's not that innocent."
"What?"
"You know about Eugene and Tracy Loach?" Jesse said, that self-righteous tone seeping back into his voice. "Tracy Loach was prom queen, rodeo queen queen of everything. Everyone loved her. Eugene loved her, too. One day, he gets the courage to confess his love, and she rejects him. Now, any normal kid would sulk, nurse his broken heart, let it go. Not Eugene. Eugene got a shotgun, put it to her head, and blew half her head off. Once that was done, he turned the gun on himself. So Eugene is not that innocent."
Cassidy was skeptical. Small towns have a bad habit of twisting the truth, and he couldn't believe that Eugene was capable of something like that.
"So, he deserves it," he scoffed. "Is that what you're sayin'?"
"I'm sayin' better men than Eugene Root have been cast down. Much better men."
Cassidy shook his head. "No, Jesse, this Genesis thing, it's really playin' with your head. An' those English boys, they're right. We've got to give this thing back--"
"I'm not givin' it back," Jesse insisted. "Not part of the plan."
"Oh, for-- There is no plan!" Cassidy yelled. "There's no plan! You've lost control of this thing! All right? Fer Christ's sake, you've sent an innocent kid to Hell!"
"How can you say there's no plan, Cassidy?" Jesse said, eerily calm about all of this, and Cassidy groaned with frustration. "Angels, Heaven, and Hell -- you've seen it. You've seen it's real. It's real, and it has a reason."
"Look, I'm not saying--"
"And it's God's plan." Jesse strode out of the shade and into the sunshine, as if delivering a sermon from on high. "If His reason, if His judgment, is to send one more sinner, one more lost soul into the fire, what can I do? Except stand aside and watch him burn."
Really. Really? Cassidy, fuming, stayed where he was. This was bullshit. He knew that Jesse was better than this.
"Tulip was right about you, y'know," he muttered.
Jesse pulled a face and snorted. "Tulip. What do you know about Tulip?"
"Never mind." Now was not the time. "What about me? I'm no innocent, either." Cassidy stepped closer, further toward the edge of the shadows. "I'm a lazy, lying, self-obsessed, drug-abusing, cheating fornicator with a filthy mouth and no ambition. An' I think your God, if he really does exist, is not more than a stocious muppet who smells his own farts!"
Closer and closer to the edge he came.
"An' that's not the worst of my sins, neither, Preacher. Not by a long shot."
He tossed the fire extinguisher toward Jesse, and it landed in the dirt.
"What's this for?" Jesse asked, bewildered, resting a boot on it.
"It's for me, Padre."
Cassidy shed his hoodie, and pulled his t-shirt off, exposing his bare skin.
"Or will you let me burn, too?"
Gritting his teeth, he stepped out of the shade -- and the moment the hot, Texas sunlight touched him, his skin blistered and boiled and burned, and screaming in agony, he fell in a flaming heap Jesse's feet.
"So, how's it goin'?" Cassidy asked, as he settled down in the shade on the church steps. He had a ratty hoodie on as extra protection.
Jesse sniffed, wincing in pain. "Well, I got a bloody nose."
"That's not what I meant."
It was then that Cassidy saw the remorse in Jesse's eyes. Honestly, that was all he needed.
"I didn't mean to," Jesse sighed. "I said the words, and he was gone."
And that was all Cassidy needed to hear.
Tulip's family dinner had gone slightly awry a few minutes ago. Jesse was giving Tulip the silent treatment and pissing her off while Cassidy was extolling the cinematic virtues of the Coen Brothers (except for The Big Lewbowski; The Big Lebowski is shite) to Emily. Then when Sheriff Root came in asking if anyone had seen Eugene, and everyone flat out lied to his face, the smoke alarm went off, as Tulip's vanilla hash browns caught fire in the oven.
So, that was a bust.
But at least Jesse was talking now. And at least he acknowledged what he'd done. Sending Eugene to Hell was an accident.
"Y'know, I went to Atlantic City once with the wife of a Russian gangster, right?" Cassidy said. "And honestly, she was lovely. But Atlantic City turns out to be not much more than a shank of shite, so, y'know. We all make mistakes, don't we? All right, come on." He took Jesse's arm and helped him to his feet. "What's next? How can I help you?"
Jesse wiped his nose and dusted off his pants. "Well, maybe take a look at the balcony railing," he said, eyeing the church steeple. "See how busy we've got, be even busier come Sunday--"
"I meant, what're you gonna do about Eugene?" Cassidy interrupted.
But Jesse just looked at him kind of blankly. "Well, what can I do? You tell me."
"You just sent an innocent kid to be forever poked by piping-hot pitchforks! I think acting like you give a damn might be a good start, mate."
"He's not that innocent."
"What?"
"You know about Eugene and Tracy Loach?" Jesse said, that self-righteous tone seeping back into his voice. "Tracy Loach was prom queen, rodeo queen queen of everything. Everyone loved her. Eugene loved her, too. One day, he gets the courage to confess his love, and she rejects him. Now, any normal kid would sulk, nurse his broken heart, let it go. Not Eugene. Eugene got a shotgun, put it to her head, and blew half her head off. Once that was done, he turned the gun on himself. So Eugene is not that innocent."
Cassidy was skeptical. Small towns have a bad habit of twisting the truth, and he couldn't believe that Eugene was capable of something like that.
"So, he deserves it," he scoffed. "Is that what you're sayin'?"
"I'm sayin' better men than Eugene Root have been cast down. Much better men."
Cassidy shook his head. "No, Jesse, this Genesis thing, it's really playin' with your head. An' those English boys, they're right. We've got to give this thing back--"
"I'm not givin' it back," Jesse insisted. "Not part of the plan."
"Oh, for-- There is no plan!" Cassidy yelled. "There's no plan! You've lost control of this thing! All right? Fer Christ's sake, you've sent an innocent kid to Hell!"
"How can you say there's no plan, Cassidy?" Jesse said, eerily calm about all of this, and Cassidy groaned with frustration. "Angels, Heaven, and Hell -- you've seen it. You've seen it's real. It's real, and it has a reason."
"Look, I'm not saying--"
"And it's God's plan." Jesse strode out of the shade and into the sunshine, as if delivering a sermon from on high. "If His reason, if His judgment, is to send one more sinner, one more lost soul into the fire, what can I do? Except stand aside and watch him burn."
Really. Really? Cassidy, fuming, stayed where he was. This was bullshit. He knew that Jesse was better than this.
"Tulip was right about you, y'know," he muttered.
Jesse pulled a face and snorted. "Tulip. What do you know about Tulip?"
"Never mind." Now was not the time. "What about me? I'm no innocent, either." Cassidy stepped closer, further toward the edge of the shadows. "I'm a lazy, lying, self-obsessed, drug-abusing, cheating fornicator with a filthy mouth and no ambition. An' I think your God, if he really does exist, is not more than a stocious muppet who smells his own farts!"
Closer and closer to the edge he came.
"An' that's not the worst of my sins, neither, Preacher. Not by a long shot."
He tossed the fire extinguisher toward Jesse, and it landed in the dirt.
"What's this for?" Jesse asked, bewildered, resting a boot on it.
"It's for me, Padre."
Cassidy shed his hoodie, and pulled his t-shirt off, exposing his bare skin.
"Or will you let me burn, too?"
Gritting his teeth, he stepped out of the shade -- and the moment the hot, Texas sunlight touched him, his skin blistered and boiled and burned, and screaming in agony, he fell in a flaming heap Jesse's feet.