Chapter 17

By the time that Carver and Sophie returned from their little quickie, Rick had moved on to Mark, while Jan worked on Sally, of course. While the latter flirted, the former kept it more or less professional, as before, but both were very good at their jobs. It turned out that Rick was a married family man, so that wasn’t likely to turn into anything raunchy, but he still seemed to be open-minded about the rest of us, thankfully. This was even more surprising when I learned that he was a Quaker, of all things. People really can shock one, I suppose ... the only Quakers I had known prior to Rick were all very somber folk who dressed plainly and spoke like they were in the King James Bible.

“Oh, yes, those are conservative Friends, that’s what we call ourselves. Quaker is a word derived from an incident with our founder, George Fox, back in Merry Ol’ England. Long story there, having to do with a judge. We were a lot more rebellious back then, given our ideas. Personally, I grew up in a more liberal Friends household, but even so, I went against that, too.

“I still go to Meeting, but you need to understand that it’s a very personal, mystical religion, where faith and reason both have a role, and every man or woman lives primarily by the lights of his or her own conscience. That’s why I don’t judge anyone for living differently from me. Their path is not my path, and mine is not theirs. What I do is what is right for me and I don’t necessarily think that God sets the same road before every single person, including in matters of sexuality. I’m more traditional about some things, but not about others.”

“That makes sense. So, what’s with the horseshoe on your ass, Mark?” I teased him, only to see him grin a bit.

“Yeah, well, anal is a lot like horseshoes ... requires a bit of aggression, but if you miss your target and come close, you can still enjoy it. Plus, I like playing horseshoes. And I got a wild idea or two to make it a very wild game, if you catch my drift,” Mark chuckled as Rick finished with him and prepared to start on Martin.

Sally, meanwhile, kept flirting with Rick and Jan both, in spite of Rick’s avowed monogamous ways. Evidently, this was far from new to him, so he deflected it as best as he could, focusing on her tattoos, which proved to be a crescent moon on each cheek, two nymphs on her breasts, and the words, “Master’s Bottom Slut” on her lower back, directly above her ass. It was clear that Rick enjoyed tattooing her, though he continued to keep a professional facade, but he was just as ready to start in on Shannon when it was her turn...

Martin, for his part, selected the words, “Boi Pussy” for his tramp stamp, after which he had his belly inked with a naked, pre-Raphaelite angel whose wings didn’t cover her delightful ass. His sister Shannon went with a tramp stamp that read “Happy Bottom Girl.” She also got a bar code tattooed on the back of her neck to read, OWNED BY MASTER and a naked Night Elf with a crescent moon on her butt itself. Kelly, who was last to get inked so far, opted for a rosebud above her asshole and a male symbol on her right tit with a female one on her left boob.

By now, it had taken some eight hours, a bit longer than one might hope, but the job was done. My people were inked. We were hungry as hell by now, having not eaten since breakfast, so we paid up while inviting Jan and Rick ... and their spouses ... and Wallace, Elroy, and Sophie ... to join us. It was now actually closer to supper time, but that was okay, because I planned for us to really chow down. Of course, we had also stayed out of the Sun, so that was a plus as well. This day was still far from a waste. We had plenty of time for more fun and games after we ate. We also had some new friends, of course.

“These heels are killing me!” Joey/Joanna griped as we walked toward the most popular steakhouse ... which read ... Jones Steak Grill, “Home of the World Famous Chicken-Fried Steak”?

“Yeah, that’s Pastor Jones’s big brother that owns that one. Evan Jones. A real pompous windbag, but he owns a damn fine steakhouse, and he’s still less of an asshat than his brother. Besides, this supports local, small businesses, right?” Belle assured me, making me grin as I wondered if the Rev. Morton Jones and his wife would bother to show up.

“And his chicken-fried steak is no joke, Master. Trust me on that one. Assuming that he doesn’t kick us all out, of course. I look forward to finding out what he’s really about these days. It’s not a Trump Steak. It’s the Real McCoy,” Sally added with a kiss as I held her hand and Shannon’s on the way inside.

“Well, look who the cat dragged in? A household full of sinners and apostates!” a voice called out to us ... it turned out to belong to a third brother, Deacon Aaron Jones, the oldest of them all ... and unknown to many of them, a recent local leader of the Ku Klux Klan, “I demand that you not serve them, little brother! It would be a sin! Don’t you know what perverts this family are? They sleep with each other ... and apparently cross dress and bed Negroes and Orientals. Bunch of faggots and rug-munchers, too.”

Judging by the Deacon’s tone, he meant a harsher, more brazenly racist word, but didn’t dare to say that in public, for fear of losing his public respectability. I chose that moment to be confrontational, as did Carver and Candy ... and Sophie ... and Jan. Several of us were so eager to take a stand that we almost had to wait in line to do so. What really stunned me, though, was that Shannon noticed that Pastor Jones stood up, too ... why was he standing up, and for what?

“Yeah, and we’re led by a Jew, namely me! Yes, that’s right! I’m a Jew! Stick that hate where the Sun don’t shine, buddy! And if you don’t want me or us in your restaurant because of this, that’s your loss, not mine, sir!” I turned to Evan Jones, who acted as host that night.

“Hey, now, hold your horses! I don’t want to lose a party of paying customers, I assure you! Aaron, you fool, I warned you that this kind of talk was best left in the past, but you didn’t listen to me, did you? Well, you know what, Mr. Imperial Wizard, I don’t personally know what’s so damn Christian about you and your band of cross-burning, bedsheet-wearing Kluckers, anyway, but I’ve had it up to here with that BS! Yes, I’m cussing! Get over it! My whole life, I’ve tried to be a good Christian, Southern gentleman, and smart businessman, hell, I even voted Republican, and to avoid stirring up trouble in the church, the family, the community, but screw that shit!

“I’m gay, Big Brother! Get that? I AM G-A-Y! I’m a fucking faggot, to use your own words! Your brother, the middle child, is a goddamned sodomite, so get used to it! I’m gay and my boyfriend over there is a Puerto Rican! Come over here, Ernesto! I’m tired of acting ashamed. I’m sorry that I ever did! If you’ll forgive my cowardice, I plan to marry you, now that the whole town will know what I am and you are as well!” Evan Jones left no doubt of his outrage by now.

“Well, then, see if we ever set foot in this restaurant again! You make good food, but it’s not worth making friends with the Devil! Clearly, you never trusted Christ as your personal Savior, so don’t expect pity from me when you roast in Hellfire for eternity! As for the Klan, it stands for many things, but it won’t stand for this heathen nonsense! You’ll see just how powerful we cross-burners still are, you reprobate!” the deacon roared, as he started to lead his family out the door ... only his daughter, Megan, refused to stand up.

“What in the blazes is the matter with you?” her mother, Annie Jones, demanded to know.

“I’m a lesbian, that’s what! There, you get it now, Mom? I’m never seen anyone in this community stand up to Dad before, but Uncle Evan and this stranger just did, and I’m proud of them for it, so that’s that! Mom, I understand if you don’t want to lose Dad, but for me, I’m done with his hypocritical BS! He can disown me if he wants, but I don’t care...

“He lost me when I found out about the KKK ... I’ve known for a while, Mom, but I only know because I snooped to make sure that he wasn’t trying to fuck one of my close friends again. Yes, he’s done that, Mom! He got three of them knocked up already and pressured them to have abortions! He kept using me to get close to my girlfriends. He’d get them drunk or bribe them or something like that and fuck them when you were out of town on one of your Christian Women and Family conferences! Why do you think that he was so keen on you joining that group?” Megan confronted her mother at last!

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Megan, now come with us!” Annie insisted, but then Deacon Jones made his key mistake.

“Megan Grace Jones, come with us now or you are cut off! You will get nothing from us! None of my dry-cleaning business, none of my money at all! You’re coming with us and you’ll get cured of your sick perversion, too,” her father told her bluntly.

“You’ll do no such thing, Bro. If you do drag her into such a place, I’ll get the authorities involved and see what they think of you kidnapping a legal adult, a nineteen year old lady, and forcing her to go to some kind of Christian gulag!” Evan got visibly furious with his brother.

“Places like that should be banned, anyway. My little niece is not going to one of those places! I’ve had it, Bro! You can do what you want about it, but I’m done preaching hate and fear! This is poisoning our own family, don’t you get that? Sorry, honey, you can leave me if you wish, although you’d be a hypocrite like me, but I’m not going to spread such talk anymore, not from the pulpit and certainly not here!” Jones briefly informed his wife, “Yes, that’s right. Pastor Morton Jones is standing up for his gay niece and you can shove your homophobia up your own ass!”

Loud applause followed that, much to my shock and many others in Riley, as the senior pastor of the town’s largest church pretty much denounced the anti-gay teachings and doctrines that he once preached himself. Miranda Jones, the pastor’s wife, suddenly rose and began a standing ovation, no less, for what her husband had just said and done.

“I’ve never been prouder of you in my whole life! Yes, it’s time to stop being a bunch of fanatics and remember what matters to God and man. I’m with you, honey, and I’m glad that you made the right decision. I was wrong about you ... I should have treated you better than that, but you made mistakes, too. It’s high time that we both owned up to our sins and errors ... and made amends. Megan, sweetie, I think that I speak for my husband as well as me when I say that you can move in with us if you wish. We won’t get in the way of you being happy as a lesbian woman, if that’s what you want,” Miranda declared, making tears stream down Megan’s face.

“Or with me if you wish, baby girl. If you don’t mind your crazy gay uncle and his live-in boyfriend,” Evan hugged his niece.

“Thank you! Both of you! All of you! See, Mom and Dad? Some people get it, even Uncle Morton and Aunt Miranda! I’m gay, but I’m still your daughter. I was gay yesterday and I was still your daughter. I will still be gay tomorrow, and guess what, I will still be your damn daughter! Yes, guys, I’m a lesbian! So what? I still want to be a good woman and I still have most of the same goals as before! Please, let’s still be a family, guys!” Megan now cried openly as she pleaded with her parents.

“No! We are called to choose and follow Christ above family, so I will not yield to Satan’s temptations and tolerate your sin! Go to hell, if you must, Megan, but you’re not dragging the rest of your family down there with you!” the Deacon told his daughter, who now sobbed as she felt her father’s rejection ... despite brave words, it still clearly stung.

“Well, that’s not all up to you, you know,” I observed, “You have a choice to make, Mrs. Jones. You can choose your husband or your daughter, but clearly, you can’t have both. Which matters more to you right now? Think long and hard on that one, ma’am. Your choices are often impossible to quite take back ... you can repair the damage, but never in quite the same way.”

“Come on, Annie, boys! I’ve heard enough of this foolishness. Let’s go. Morton, I’ll see you removed from your ministry for this! You’re fired as senior pastor once this is done ... and you’ll never pastor another church again! Not in this town! A minister of the Gospel, preaching Satan’s cozy message of compromise with sin! This is just unacceptable!” Aaron started to storm out, but he then noticed that Annie wasn’t going anywhere ... nor were the boys, eighteen year old twins David and Jonathan.

“No, honey! No! I’m staying! I’ve had enough of your folly and your harsh judgments of others! Stop it, dear! Stop this foolishness and embrace our daughter!” Annie looked at her husband with a glare that left little question that she was standing up to him for the first time in their lives, “Ever wonder why you don’t have any more kids, Aaron? Because I’ve been using the Pill this whole fucking time! Yes, that’s right! I read the Quiverfull literature and I rejected all that rubbish.

“You don’t deserve more kids, not if you can’t even accept our daughter for who she is and love her unconditionally. Remember that word, honey? Agape ... charity ... unconditional love? No, dear, I’m not going anywhere without my daughter! You don’t love her as much as I do.

“You didn’t go through six hours of fucking labor to bring her into this world! You didn’t feed her, change her, and clothe her! You didn’t even teach her how to walk or talk, read bedtime stories to her, help teach her how to read! You didn’t wipe her nose, put alcohol on her cuts and bruises, teach her how to ride a bike, or give her karate and swimming lessons! I did! You didn’t teach her how to drive! I did! I did that for her and for the twins. You didn’t even give her the ‘Talk.’ I did ... and I got her put on the fucking Pill, and now I’m glad that I did!

“So, guess what ... this stranger is right. I’ve got to choose now and I choose her ... I choose my daughter, our daughter, over you! Why? Because I love her and I just now fell out of love with you!” Annie crossed her arms as her sons hugged her and their sister.

“Well, then, go to Hell with her, you Jezebel! You’re all clearly a bad seed! I’m done with all of you! Goodbye and may the Lord forgive you, but I will not!” Deacon Aaron Jones finally walked out of the place.

“Thank you ... you did the right thing, sir ... what’s your name?” Annie turned to me now.

“Look, I just stood up for myself and others. That’s, to me, the only decent thing to do. It’s nothing above the call of duty, and the fact that it is seen as such is depressing in itself. I’m George, by the way. George Jacobson. You probably know the Bottom family, of course,” I shook her hand, but was thrown off by her warm hug.

“Well, you stood up for our Megan. You’re family now. All of you are. You’re welcome here from now on and your money is no good here,” Evan Jones insisted, shaking my hand.

“Yeah, we know the Bottoms. And who are these nice, handsome folks? You guys look like the circus came to town, but that’s okay, because you just took a stand that we should all have taken years ago, and in so doing, helped us find our way back to sanity. I was so wrong ... so very wrong, and I only wish that I had come out openly for the truth in the past,” Pastor Jones declared, as we all hugged now.

“This is Carver Watson and his wife, Dr. Candace Watson,” I introduced the Watsons.

“Call me Candy, please,” Candy insisted with a smile.

“And this is Joey Hadley, but right now, she’s a she ... Joanna. He or she is genderqueer or genderfluid, we’re not quite sure which yet. And apparently a drag queen. Which is okay with us. She’s also either bisexual or pansexual, I’m not sure which, I think. This here is Jan, who as you can see is a lesbian, too.”

“Call me a dyke, it’s okay. That’s what I am. A full-on bull dyke. True butch. This is my bisexual wife, Marsha. She’s neither really femme nor butch, near as I can tell. I’m guessing that Megan is femme, though,” Jan smiled at the Joneses, including Megan who blushed.

“Yeah, you got me pegged, ma’am. I’m a true femme. Nice to meet you,” Megan said somewhat shyly, her courage fading upon meeting Jan and Marsha ... it was somewhat intimidating to meet someone who had been where she was and lived to tell the tale.

“Likewise, I assure you,” Marsha spoke at last, pushing back what few bangs she had on her pixie cut ... a bit of a tomboy, she was nonetheless hardly butch.

“And this is Rick and his wife, er ... Nadine, right?” I suddenly recalled.

“Yes, that’s right. Nadine. I’m Rick, as he said. I work with Jan in the Taylor Tattoo Club. TTC. We’ve been working together for years. Nadine is a registered nurse herself,” Rick informed us.

“And I’m a councilwoman,” Marsha informed us suddenly, “Seriously, I’m on the City Council.”

“Neat. Reverend Morton Jones, in case you missed it. This is my wife, Miranda. She’s pregnant with our first child. And I hope that Megan takes up on the offer to move in. It would be some relief for poor Michelle here. Yes, this here is Michelle. Well, Michela Katerina Sforza, but we call her Michelle. Student from Italy, in fact. And you are?” he asked the others, indicating a very attractive foreigner.

“I’m Sophie Nakamura. These are my husbands, Wallace Turner and Elroy Merchant. I’m not legally bound to either of them, but we have a common-law deal, if you will, since I am not out to play favorites with them. We have an open marriage, though they abused its terms a little today, and they both paid for it, didn’t you, guys? I normally obey them, but once in awhile, it’s good to remind them of the limits of their power.”

“I’m David Jones and this is my twin brother Jonathan. And this is our mother, Annie,” David declared.

“Well, shall we dine, then, now that we’ve met?” I proposed, and being hungry, they all agreed, setting up quite the long table there.

“So, now that the eyes and ears of the KKK are gone, shall we discuss our Grand Design, Master?” Belle initiated that discourse.

“Master?” Miranda asked us suddenly.

“Hello, we’re Bottoms, remember?” Sally interjected, making us all laugh.

“Touche, dear. I get your point. So, he must be your new Top, eh?” Miranda snickered.

“And fiance, among other things. We’ve got plans where that is concerned, my dear, sweet Miranda,” Sally ran her tongue along her own lips for emphasis and a reminder, giving Miranda the chills.

“Which brings us back to the Plan, yes, as Belle indicated. We’re starting our own church, if you will. In all seriousness, this is a real idea. Having a licensed and ordained minister as an adviser and participant would help greatly, not to mention the likely benefits in terms of services. We want to form a religious community of our own, right here in Riley. You could be the first members, right here, of this new organization. What do you think?” I suggested.

“Well, doctrinally, it would obviously be different from what I’ve followed in the past, but now I’ve got real doubts about that, anyway. What kind of God would make Megan gay, and then sentence her to eternal torment for being what he made? Same with Evan, my own brother?” Morton observed aloud.

“Precisely, and the answer is, a false god, of course. An idol. Remember, my Faith was taught to be very skeptical of idols, prophets, new teachings, etc. I’m not even totally sure of what canon one could trust, given that even some rabbis questioned a few books of the Tanakh, such as Esther and Daniel. That’s right, I really am a Jew, albeit a rogue one of sorts. A bit of a maverick. A heretic, if you will. The way I see it, though, one could preserve the wheat and expunge the tares of the three major Abrahamic religions, jettisoning the bigotry and maintaining the social ethics, if you will. I’ve been thinking of various names, and one just occurred to me...

“The Church of the One God. That’s a reference to Plato’s ‘One, ‘ if you will. It will mix Platonic, Stoic, Masonic, Jewish, Deist, and Christian ideals, maybe even some things from Islam, Taoism, Zen, and Buddhism, into a new religious system, while embracing a more libertine approach to human sexuality, if you will. Admittedly, you may hear some things of a Messianic nature about me, but that’s because the Bottoms here tend to be rather fond of me, it seems. I dare say, even the Watsons do, I think.

“Who knows? They might be right, depends on how you define a Messiah. As a Reform Jew, I was taught to believe in a Messianic Age rather than a personal Messiah, but that’s just me.

“Look, I think that Christianity served a useful historical purpose, as has Islam, Judaism, etc. It has done a bit of good for the world, but it has also done some real harm, as you just saw. I can understand finding Jesus’s message of brotherhood and compassion appealing, but still rejecting the hateful teachings that came along later, courtesy of some of the Church Fathers. You know as well as I do that some of the later doctrines bear little resemblance to the actual words of the Nazarene as recorded in the Gospels, especially the Synoptic Ones. To say nothing of the Gnostics, who had some good ideas, if you leave out their unfortunate anti-Semitic leanings.”

“We’ll need some kind of literature, I think. A leadership of sorts. Something to get us incorporated under Georgia law as a church. Also, have to work with the IRS on getting tax-exempt status. Otherwise, the taxman could come collecting, and that’s not even counting state taxes. An organization. A statement of doctrines and beliefs, more or less along those lines. Ordination. It will help having me, as I’m already ordained and can probably just ordain others, who can then do the same for me once I’m defrocked by my own church. I can see it now. Naturally, you should be the official leader of the church, and so you need to be ordained first among us, aside from me. Anything else?” Morton thought aloud.

“Well, once we have more money rolling in, we could get salaries going, but until then, what will you do for it?” I asked him.

“Probably take up teaching again. I did that for a while when on a smaller salary as associate and youth pastor. I taught public school, believe it or not. 11th grade English literature. An obvious topic for me, though I think that my teaching style might improve with this recent epiphany. It’s clear to me that what I had been preaching was wrong all this time, after all, and so how I relate to my colleagues might well improve. I might even get tenure, if I stick around, that is. Will services be on Sunday or some other day of the week?” Jones asked me.

“I think that Sunday is still fitting, just because it’s what people are used to, it is the beginning of the week, and if I feel like going to temple on the Sabbath, and I might now and then, for various occasions, there won’t be a conflict. One service in the afternoon, though. Give people a chance to get some sleep in the morning. Don’t take up their mornings and evenings with church when they might want to eat breakfast or watch football games. Say, one in the afternoon as the main service, with optional extra ones for special occasions. Such as weddings, funerals, etc.,” I suggested.

“So, really, this is an interfaith church, if you think of it. An ecumenical one. Welcoming Jews, Christians, Muslims, etc. to all worship together if they wish to do so,” Carver noted, “Oh, and I’ll help out with the legal, incorporation stuff, of course.”