/* I am afraid I must begin with an apology. I lack the words to properly describe the opening scene. Its not tricky. I just...lack the literary skills to tell the story the way it deserves to be told. Oh the imagery! The sharp gothic points arch through this story like literary flying buttresses, ...and then something about a gargoyle wearing a corset. Oh dear me I can't even salvage the introduction. Well, on with it then. I suppose I'll just tell you what I know.
We start off with a Boss 429 parked outside a cathedral. Not actually a cathedral--really just a small church with fake gothic trimmings--but everyone called it "the cathedral" so that's how I'll tell it. Anyway the lights were on--both the car and the cathedral. The engine was running. Both Biff and his date, a girl who insisted very strongly that her name really was candy, were in the front seat impatiently waiting -- this sucks -- TODO: remove this block */
"Does this guy seriously live in a church?"
"Is your name really Candy? And its a Cathedral."
"Yes Biff! Come one how many times do I have to tell y--"
"Lets roll."
Biff opened his door and stood up. Light was spilling out of large, arched doors and over the hood of his Boss 429. The glossy black finish reflected the amber glow in such a way as to give the impression that the air scoop was slurping up the light.
Candy got out of the car as well and pressed her legs together while using both hands to straighten her gold miniskirt. Biff loved it when girls did that.
Biff opened the door and held it open for Candy.
"We're not seriously going in there, are we? Churches creep me out."
"Cathedral."
"What-ever. I'm not going in. I thought you said we were going to a bonfi-irrrre." Candry drew out the last syllable like a 5 year old.
"We are. Wait for me in the car." Biff slapped her ass. She gave him a look full of daggers but Biff know she liked it. "He's probably just stoned." Candy stuck her tongue out at him and slammed the door shut.
The cathedral doors were large and heavy and smelled like wood. There were more smells waiting for him inside: old, dusty velvet. Old wood. Old everything. It was the kind of place with old-ass carpet everywhere and kneelers in the pews, and everything was made of wood, but not tastefully. The kind of place where people met based on their common belief that things like the electric guitar were evil. People who liked to dress up and get told what to do and slowly sing old organ songs with 4 or 5 interchangeable verse/chorus lines.
Biff saw his quarry up front. Actually, first he saw a Hayabusa sportbike next to the altar. Then he saw Eric. He yelled his customary greeting: "Eric! Lets roll!" No response. Biff started walking up to the front. He was no fan of churches, but felt nothing but complete indiference towards the buildings. The gargoyles kinda looked cool. He thought about the feasibility of attaching a bottle opener inside their mouths and wondered if Eric would sell him one.
Pages crinkled under his feet. Thin pages, tiny text, some kind of ugly red paste on the edges. They were everywhere.
"What the fuck are you doing?" asked Biff.
"Hey. Oh. Hey!" said Eric, "just getting ready to move in. You know. Gotta get the place ready--oh those. Yeah, I thought I should sit down and read one of these, you know?"
"Read what?"
"The bibles. I don't know why they didn't take them. Anyway I thought I should read one just to give a proper send off. You know. Sort of close this chapter on the place. And I was going to keep one somewhere, like with a knife stuck in it. Or a Katana."
/* that paragraph completes the requirement of having both a sportbike and a katana in the story */
"You're ripping them apart! And thats not good for a Katana." Biff had reached the front, where Eric was laying on his back with his legs up along the podium. There was an unlit joint in his mouth.
As if for an answer, Eric ripped a handful. "Yeah, well, these guys here they added all this extra shit. Except--damnit!--these books keep breaking when I rip all the pages out."
Biff looked around him. The guy must have ruined fifty or more books that way. "Can't you just get the kind you need from 7-11?"
Eric looked at him. "I don't think 7-11 sells bibles."
"Walmart?"
"No, they'd probably censor the good parts," said Ed, "like the part with Solomon's girlfriend and the deer."
Biff's sudden interest in the ancient text was obvious.
"Anyway. I got a call from Saud."
"Oh no."
"Its strange...." droned Eric.
"Fuck me sideways," thought Biff.
"After all the times I've texted or emailed her and she never responds, all of a sudden she called me."
"I wouldn't count on it bro," said Biff
"But why would she do that? I mean, seriously, right? What was the line from Swingers? They never call until...they...its only when you stop calling...."
"You hungry bro?" interrupted Biff.
"Fuck yes. I'm fucking starved, man."
"I have Candy in the car."
Eric shot up. "I could totally eat some candy right now." Eric looked around him, studying the floor covered in loose sheets of cheaply-printed religious text. Biff wondered if the ink would rub onto Candy's back. He also thought about Candy getting eaten and had to adjust his jeans slightly. He also noticed Eric had avoided eye contact since standing up. That was another one of his...traits. Traits that included ripping up bibles and walking on only black tiles.
Had Eric been any other man, Biff wouldn't bother hanging out with him. But Eric was Eric. The last of the Titans. And Eric was always invited.
/* Notes: Act II could possibly be called "Flames of Desire" and Act V ...idk.
* Eric is known as "one of the three"
*
* scratch that: Act II is "holy water"
* -- swimming pool, poison tea, crossbow. Saudade. */
*
* scratch that: Act II is "holy water"
* -- swimming pool, poison tea, crossbow. Saudade. */
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