A memory long forgotten.

Keep in mind, I grew up in one of those retarded bible-thumping evangelical christian households. "Holiness" is the doctrine. One of my early memories which I'd forgotten until a dream last night:

I'm a child. 6 years old I THINK. We still lived in the grey single-wide mobile home, but I think it was on the lot next to the house on Cinder Hill Ct. while Dad fixed the house up. I remember playing make-believe, but considering how HOLY our household and my upbringing had been to this point EVERYTHING was related to religion. In fact, I have a vague recollection of overhearing an argument between my parents involving the nature of play between my sisters and I and whether it was suitable for church.

So, I'm at play, and I think in Sunday school we'd recently covered the David and Goliath story. In my playtime David had just had his ass handed to him by Goliath, who was holding Jesus hostage. Rather than playing with rocks and string, I did what any rational six-year-old does. I drew my sword and cut off Goliath's head without any of that bullshit sling and stone foreplay. I then led Jesus to safety over a series of stones or tiles (my kitchen floor maybe?) surrounded by hot lava.

Mom and dad were NOT happy that my fantasies at this age were so well developed with me as the warrior rescuing humanity's supposed savior.