A Description of the World From the View of a Ping-Pong Ball

Prologue:

The city is always cold. And my guilt didn’t help me feel any better. Any warmer either. Well, except for that burning in the pit of my stomach, which was the guilt eating away at me. So I turned to the one place I neglected much too long – actually more like my whole life: the Church. Church means confession, which was exactly what I needed then.

I stuffed my hands deeper into the pockets of my ebony side button coat, took a deep breath, trudged up the stone steps of the Church, and pulled open one of the huge, squeaky, wooden doors.

It was warm inside. This was one of those, you know, old cathedrals that they don’t build anymore. In fact, it’s one of the last standing in Pit City. Candles lit everywhere, people praying, the omnipresent quiet and feeling of respite. Yeah, I love it here.

But on to my sole purpose for coming here.

I sat in the confession box and my heart gave a slight lurch of apprehension. I had no idea what to do, but I’ve seen lots of movies.

“Bless me Father for I have sinned,” my voice was still hoarse from the dry outside air. “It’s been a long time sine my last confession. You know, I’ve never even been to confession. I’m not even Catholic. Hell, I’m not even Christian!”

I heard the priest shifting his weight in the neighboring box.

“So I’m gonna give you the basic outline of what I’ve been doing, okay? Because if I’m over the top descriptive you’ll be listening to me for a long time.”

“That’s fine.”

Ha, easy guy to work with.

“Anywho, here’s the basic gist: I’ve lied, cheated, slept around, maliciously hurt people, had impure thoughts every day since I was eleven, took advantage of anyone with the slightest bit of desperateness, envied anyone with a better body than me, stolen, cursed, used the Lord’s name in vain many times, killed my best friend’s sister’s fiancé, had affairs with multiple people – which that kind of goes along with the whole “slept around” bit doesn’t it?”

“Um, yes.”

“Hah, yeah. So anyway, I do drugs, drink obsessively, and you know that movie Seven? Well Sloth is one of the deadly sins. I never knew that until I saw that movie, but I’m a very slothful person. In fact I’m guilty for all of the sins that that dude murdered for in the movie.”

“Which was all Seven Deadly Sins,” the priest said and coughed. “Not that I’ve seen it.”

“Really? I have way too much pride and some gluttonous tendencies. I pirate a lot of illegal porn the internet. In fact, I am the main influence for my niece to become a porn star. See, I told her that was the only thing she’d ever be good at because she’s got no sense in her. Just the right kinda toolbox.”

“Your niece? What’s her name?”

I paused. How fishy. A priest just asked me for my porn star niece’s name. “Isn’t that an odd thing for someone like you to ask?”

“You seem very troubled,” he said and I heard him inhale heavily.

“Yeah I am. In fact I’m on my way to my next big killing spree. I just wanted to wipe my slate clean before doing it. Can I confess a sin in advance before my next and final victim shuffles off the good ol’ mortal coil?”

“But that wouldn’t be a valid confession because it hasn’t happened,” he returned, sounding annoyed.

“Father, I don’t know what to do. You heard my sins. They’re all awful! If I could go back, I would change everything I did. Honestly I would. I mean of all the people I’ve screwed, I’ve screwed myself the most.”

The priest snickered.

A priest snickered at me during my confession.

I buried my face in my palms. “You bastard,” I muttered in dismay. “You know what I meant.”

“Well, deny it,” he said. “Both ways.”

“You win, smartass,” I hissed under my breath. “What do I do to repent all this?”

“Well, let’s think. You called me – a priest – an offensive name. You’re not going anywhere until you get my forgiveness for that.”

“I’m sorry,” I ran my fingers through my hair with frustration. “Please Father, like I said, I’m about to commit another horrible sin. If I don’t, more bad will happen,” I picked at a hangnail on my forefinger with my thumb. “An infinite number of Hail Mary’s and Lord’s Prayers aren’t gonna relieve this kinda guilt.”

The priest cleared his throat. “Have you ever considered an honest – and I mean honest – apology to the people you’ve hurt? And you’re not Catholic so your sins cannot be absolved.”

“It doesn’t matter because I’ll go to Hell anyway, and my apologies wouldn’t be sincere. I just don’t deserve salvation,” I picked harder at the hangnail. “I need to go to Hell. It’s only fair to my victims.”

The hangnail peeled away and I bit it off and wiped the blood on my jeans. It was a small punishment to everything I had done.

“That’s not a good way of looking at it,” his voice was shaking.

“At this point I don’t care,” I said and stood up.

“Hold on!” the priest shouted. “You must here me out!”

I pulled out a switchblade knife and performed a murder.

My final murder.