Show Time
An excerpt from my novel, Diary of a Heretic: Click here to read the previous episode, and here to start from the beginning.
The World’s Most Pink Skinned Saint? What’s a snappy rejoinder for that? It was 7:45 and people 
nibbled at tarts and cakes and spooned up chocolate mousse from bittersweet shells.
“One rule,” Carlos gripped my arm and hissed, “whatever you make the big sin—money, sex, ambition—will pervade your religion. Law of nature, Malcolm: the thing you try hardest to overcome will corrupt you in the end.”
“I’m not starting a religion! And I don’t want followers!” My eyelids burned. “I only want a discussion group.”
“Call it what you want,” he said, drawing a knuckle down my left side. Making the walls shift, my hair prickle, my tongue slide over my lips.
“Don’t touch me!”
And twisting the ends of his mustache (also dyed, though not as thoroughly), Carlos patted my cheeks, saying, “Show time, Daddy! Show time.”
(Click here to read the next episode.)
