Besides, you do somewhat resemble the one who gets scared easily.” Mike was basically poking fun at him by now. “Fuck you! But I’ll give it som... serious consideration though. When do you want to go?” “Uh, probably Friday night. Depends on what works for both you and Dan.” “Alright, well I’ll think about it and let you know by then.” “Sounds good…pussy,” Mike laughed as he hung up before Brett could say anything. * Mike wasn’t exactly sure what he was getting himself into. He tried to do some. That feels wrong, or I have a bad feeling about this, are other bits of nonsense.What’s wrong with the question, What’s wrong with me? Emotional conflicts. Your dark and light sides warring? Your conscience bothering you?Why can feeling anything, desire or something else for anyone, make you wrong?Does thinking inappropriate thoughts about your mom make you a motherfucker? Take it from me, and I’m a real live motherfucker, your fantasies ain’t nothing like touchy-feely nitty-gritty smelly. "Would you like to know my name Maria?" she asked calmly. Her gaze was still fixed on the other side of the bank where sheep grazing. In the distance a sweaty farmer was painting his barn."Yes," I said, "I would like to know your name."The conversation lulled for a minute. Birds flew overhead, trilling sweet songs as they flew to warmer climes."My name is Cariel..."she said.Another pause..."Are you an Angel," I blurted out.Her face remained tranquil at my outburst."Yes," she said in her. I know now that many of the actions that I took were not justified.”“My body paid the price for my sins. After the rocket hit me, I spent months in the hospital recovering from the wounds. I could just feel the hate fester in me. After being released, I spent months planning my revenge. I went to the Mosque and climbed out of my wheelchair. With bandages still covering the stumps, I prostrated myself on the floor asking Allah to support me. For the first time in my life, I opened my heart to.
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