Post by Charlie Velez on Jan 1, 2011 23:13:17 GMT -6
He steps into the house of God, looking for the answers.
The answers to the questions he has asked for months, for years. He walks into the house of God, with one thing on his mind.
To finally get to the bottom of it.
Charlie walks in, dressed as neatly as he can. With the expenses that he has, the only important thing is looking good for the higher power, especially when you’re looking for questions. So with all that money, he took advantage.
He walks down the aisle down the empty Church, until he gets all the way to the front row. He walks down the middle of the aisle, pulling down the knee rest, before sitting there. He rests his elbows on the fence, and puts his hands together. He closes his eyes…and begins to speak.
“Hey God…it’s me…Charlie Velez.”
An awkward introduction, but it just seemed like the only response he could give. He adjusts his positioning, and continues.
“It’s been a while since I’ve been here. Since dad died…I’ve just been avoiding this place a lot. I remember when we were little I used to come here every week and thank you for everything you’ve given me but…well, you probably know I’ve been busy. But…you probably know why I’m here.”
He reaches into his coat pocket, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. He fixes it up, revealing the card for Time to Riot. Highlighted is his match, the main event.
“It’s….it’s my big match, God. The match I’ve worked my whole career for, the match I’ve prayed for my whole life. I mean, this is my second chance, but…you know, I think this might be it, my last chance. I’ve wasted two opportunities and well, I don’t know how many more shots I’ll get. So this is all I ask from you, just…help.”
He has to swallow his pride. The act of asking for help is foreign to Charlie; he’s a man of pride, a man who thinks that he can do everything. But for this match, he believes he needs something more.
“I need your help, God. I know I can beat Dave, I know that I can make him submit, I know I can pin him…I don’t know if I can stop everybody else though. I don’t know if I can stop the Angels, or stop the Falcons, or stop the Alex Jones…I just don’t know God. I seem to be outmatched, it seems like everybody wants to take me down. Which is why I need your help God, I need that extra push that extra motivation”
His face falls into his hands. He doesn’t shed a tear, but he is very emotional.
“Please, give me a sign that you’re listening.”
Silence, nothing but pure silence. He sits there, waiting and waiting…but a sign never comes. He becomes very agitated, his eyes fill up and he looks around, checking if he missed something, but his first instinct was right…
“Nothing.”
He nods his head, running his forearm under his nose. He stands up from the bench, still nodding his head.
“I get nothing from you again. I should have known…you never seem to come through, you’re never there when I need you the most. I remember spending months asking you for help as a child and all I got was the same response, nothing. When I need you the most you’re just there watching.”
He puts his hands on the top of the bench, and he looks down. He begins breathing heavy, and in a burst of anger punches down.
“You ALWAYS LET ME DOWN!”
He shoots his head up, and he points to the Heavens above, to the portrait of God and his children. He walks over and stands in front of the portrait, anger running across his face.
“You’ve let me down my whole life, you’ve never been there when I needed you the most. I spent eighteen years of my life coming here and asking for forgiveness from you, spent my Sundays trying to follow in your path, and what have you given me? The money I earned, I did that myself, you had no help! The only thing you did was take away dad, you took him away, YOU TOOK HIM AWAY!”
Charlie begins punching the wall like a child, just pounding away. The wall doesn’t break, it stays strong. He begins to get tired after constantly punching away, he falls to his knees. He breaths heavy, his forehead hitting the wall.
“That’s why I don’t need you…I never needed you. It was all fake, a form of propaganda my father used to feed me. You were never there because you don’t exist. They always told me that God was there for my success…but what about my failures? Where were you then? You just watched, you were with somebody else when you should have been with me! You…you helped Dave Holland beat me. It was you all along, YOUR FAULT!”
He stands up and points.
“This Sunday I won’t need you. You can be on the side of Dave Holland, you can wear your Dave Holland shirt and hold up your sign. You can be there, so I can laugh and spit in your face when I beat him this Sunday. You’ve never been there for me, so let me beat you, let me show the whole world that I am bigger than him AND you combined. Let me show the whole world that God doesn’t exist…
And that Charlie Velez is the only God figure the world knows.”
He puts his hand down, slowly backing away, nodding his head. He doesn’t take his eye off the picture, he still talks to himself.
“Because I will be champ…even if you don’t want it that way.”
He doesn’t take his eyes off like a man possessed.
This Sunday is his one shot.
With God’s help or not.
The answers to the questions he has asked for months, for years. He walks into the house of God, with one thing on his mind.
To finally get to the bottom of it.
Charlie walks in, dressed as neatly as he can. With the expenses that he has, the only important thing is looking good for the higher power, especially when you’re looking for questions. So with all that money, he took advantage.
He walks down the aisle down the empty Church, until he gets all the way to the front row. He walks down the middle of the aisle, pulling down the knee rest, before sitting there. He rests his elbows on the fence, and puts his hands together. He closes his eyes…and begins to speak.
“Hey God…it’s me…Charlie Velez.”
An awkward introduction, but it just seemed like the only response he could give. He adjusts his positioning, and continues.
“It’s been a while since I’ve been here. Since dad died…I’ve just been avoiding this place a lot. I remember when we were little I used to come here every week and thank you for everything you’ve given me but…well, you probably know I’ve been busy. But…you probably know why I’m here.”
He reaches into his coat pocket, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. He fixes it up, revealing the card for Time to Riot. Highlighted is his match, the main event.
“It’s….it’s my big match, God. The match I’ve worked my whole career for, the match I’ve prayed for my whole life. I mean, this is my second chance, but…you know, I think this might be it, my last chance. I’ve wasted two opportunities and well, I don’t know how many more shots I’ll get. So this is all I ask from you, just…help.”
He has to swallow his pride. The act of asking for help is foreign to Charlie; he’s a man of pride, a man who thinks that he can do everything. But for this match, he believes he needs something more.
“I need your help, God. I know I can beat Dave, I know that I can make him submit, I know I can pin him…I don’t know if I can stop everybody else though. I don’t know if I can stop the Angels, or stop the Falcons, or stop the Alex Jones…I just don’t know God. I seem to be outmatched, it seems like everybody wants to take me down. Which is why I need your help God, I need that extra push that extra motivation”
His face falls into his hands. He doesn’t shed a tear, but he is very emotional.
“Please, give me a sign that you’re listening.”
Silence, nothing but pure silence. He sits there, waiting and waiting…but a sign never comes. He becomes very agitated, his eyes fill up and he looks around, checking if he missed something, but his first instinct was right…
“Nothing.”
He nods his head, running his forearm under his nose. He stands up from the bench, still nodding his head.
“I get nothing from you again. I should have known…you never seem to come through, you’re never there when I need you the most. I remember spending months asking you for help as a child and all I got was the same response, nothing. When I need you the most you’re just there watching.”
He puts his hands on the top of the bench, and he looks down. He begins breathing heavy, and in a burst of anger punches down.
“You ALWAYS LET ME DOWN!”
He shoots his head up, and he points to the Heavens above, to the portrait of God and his children. He walks over and stands in front of the portrait, anger running across his face.
“You’ve let me down my whole life, you’ve never been there when I needed you the most. I spent eighteen years of my life coming here and asking for forgiveness from you, spent my Sundays trying to follow in your path, and what have you given me? The money I earned, I did that myself, you had no help! The only thing you did was take away dad, you took him away, YOU TOOK HIM AWAY!”
Charlie begins punching the wall like a child, just pounding away. The wall doesn’t break, it stays strong. He begins to get tired after constantly punching away, he falls to his knees. He breaths heavy, his forehead hitting the wall.
“That’s why I don’t need you…I never needed you. It was all fake, a form of propaganda my father used to feed me. You were never there because you don’t exist. They always told me that God was there for my success…but what about my failures? Where were you then? You just watched, you were with somebody else when you should have been with me! You…you helped Dave Holland beat me. It was you all along, YOUR FAULT!”
He stands up and points.
“This Sunday I won’t need you. You can be on the side of Dave Holland, you can wear your Dave Holland shirt and hold up your sign. You can be there, so I can laugh and spit in your face when I beat him this Sunday. You’ve never been there for me, so let me beat you, let me show the whole world that I am bigger than him AND you combined. Let me show the whole world that God doesn’t exist…
And that Charlie Velez is the only God figure the world knows.”
He puts his hand down, slowly backing away, nodding his head. He doesn’t take his eye off the picture, he still talks to himself.
“Because I will be champ…even if you don’t want it that way.”
He doesn’t take his eyes off like a man possessed.
This Sunday is his one shot.
With God’s help or not.