They were always threatening to cut the damn thing off, and what were all those fucking confessions about? I have sinned in thought and deed. I have sinned, I have sinned, I have sinned—and it was always better, to undercut Hell’s competition, to sin, if you had to sin, alone. What a pain in the ass old Jesus Christ had turned out to be, and it probably wasn’t even the poor, doomed, loving, hopheaded old Jew’s fault.
