Gale Acuff


I'm going to die, you're going to die, all

God's children are going to die and tough
turtle-tits if we don't like it and I
had to stay after at Sunday School this
morning for laughing at the photo in
our workbook of Jesus on the Cross but
barely dressed—drawing I mean, folks didn't
use cameras way back then in the old
days even older than Grandfather's time
—so I just sat at my desk and drew duds
on Jesus so that he'd donned a coat and
tie and trousers and I like super
-heroes so I added boots and a cape 
and cowl and it was the beginning of
a good story. But God beat me to it.

*

I don't want to die, not never, I'm ten

years old and one day I won't be and not
just because I'll be 12 or 15 or
77 but because I'll be
snuffed and at Sunday School they tell us that
we need to be ready for the After
-life at any time so we don't go to
Hell instead of the Good Place—after all,
Eternity's a long time and not just
long as in length but long as in depth so
I have to pray and read the Bible and
never miss church and Sunday School (even
when I'm grown-up) and believe that Jesus
is the Son of the God or I'll wake up dead
in Hell. So I must die. So it's Hell now.