Yearning Apotheosis (1)

   
   "Yearning Apotheosis (1)"
   
   My title is Britt Flynn; specifically--that's my name, in this Universe amidst the Multiverse.  My Dad was Irish, like the only Catholic President of these here States--John F. Kennedy.  But Daddy didn't get an eternal torch over his grave; my nasty mother cremated him, lessening him more than the English did to Saint Joan of Arc--but energy (spirit) never dies, and can be resurrected or implanted in bio-mechanical or purely corporeal forms.
   Mom poisoned Dad with antifreeze.  She molested me too, when I hit my adolescent years.  Her creamy vaginal cavity giving me epididymitis, causing me pain for years in my scrotum, and I never saw a Doc; thus, after years of hurting in them balls, I developed testicular cancer, it's possible, and now I'm what you might call:  Eunuch.  Sucks to be me, right?
   Mom ultimately smeared herself to death, or the fallen adder was calling her for a reincarnated genesis of more destruction; regardless, I go to Catholic Mass, read science fiction in my government-housed facility, and use tobacco products that are smokeless.  It's my freaking life, and all I can do is talk to Christ.  He's nice.  Obedient even unto death, not needing fame or corporations to sponsor a possible capitalistic greed, and even them radio show hosts call Pope Francis a socialist; thus, I'd like to swing on those selfish bastards.  They don't know pain.  Don't know the toxicity of drama.  The dollar keeps them safe, and I'm on the outskirts of Heaven, even here, living among the demonically deranged.