God is dead.

I killed him and put the body in my closet. I covered him in an old bedsheet but he’s starting to smell so come on, let’s get it over with. Get the feet. I’ll get the head. One. Two. Heave. Okay, now try and go quiet so we don’t wake my parents.

Ease into the hall. One hand dragging, leaving a smear of blood on the hardwood boards. Fuckit, leave it. I’ll get it later. Keep going to the garage. Easy. Down the steps and over to my mom’s Windstar. You go in the back and cover him up if anyone looks.

Goddamn, I hope the garage door doesn’t stick. Easy does it as we coast down the drive then we’re in 2nd and I’m tryna keep it quiet as we roll around the corner. Exhale. Down 6 blocks, telling you to keep your head down through 3 o’clock streets totally empty and one more block to the graveyard.

It’s dark and cold. Mist hangs between headstones. We carry him bent back like beggars, struggling with dead weight. When we get to the back corner where the stones are rubbed clean and covered in ivy, I hand you a shovel. Get ready to dig.