Make ‘Em Believe You

“He’s making a bomb in there.”

“No way.”

“Then why all the chemicals? Why the bags of fertilizer? He’s like whatshisface. Timothy McVeigh.”

“Yeah? Prove it then, Mr. Smarty.”

“I can’t prove it yet. All’s I’m saying is we need to watch the place for a while.”

“How long is a while?”

“I don’t know. Couple days, probably.”

“What about school? Your mom is a Nazi.”

“Yeah, well. She cares, is all. Anyway, I got that part figured out. Both of us will tell our parents that we’re going to stay at each other’s house for a couple days.”

“My mom will never buy that. No way. But I got a better idea.”

“Yeah?”

“Next weekend is the church retreat. We can say we’re going to that. Have our moms drop us off in the parking lot. I think everyone is supposed to be there at ten, so we tell them eight. If they offer to wait, we get all offended like they’re treating us like babies. Then we hightail it back here as soon as they leave. We’ll even have our campout stuff with us.”

“I’m not a member of your church, though.”

“So you have a week to convince your mom you’ve found Jesus. We can both start going every night.”

“I don’t know. What’s your church like?”

“Dude, it’s insane Christian. Faith healing, altar calls. speaking in tongues. All that crazy shit.”

“So you’re saying we  both pretend to be all into it for a week?”

“That’s the idea.”

“How do you speak in tongues?”

“Shan do lan da can do shanda see yah con do la shan da shan do la JESUS crarabanthya yaya degtonastico JESUS blastapamam do shanda lo lo JESUS!”

“That’s fucking hilarious! Does it need to be that loud?”

“Oh yeah. You gotta make them believe you.”

Sunday Photo Fiction