Vol. 2, Issue #5 March 30th - April 12th, 2007

No More Happy Endings
By: G. Smith
Illustrations By: Josh Reynolds

Episode 5 - The Power of the Gospel

Some things seem like a dream, other things hardly seem real. Everything has become redundant, a roller coaster of emotion; overwhelmingly sad, paralyzed, and becoming increasingly bitter. Though you try and keep your cool when she calls, or when you happen to see her sometimes the frustration slips out even then. But, you try your damnedest not to just flip the fuck out.

I wanted to take this out on someone. Someone besides her, or my coworkers, or my friends. I wanted to take it out on someone who actually deserved my wrath. The violence came in slow ripples from somewhere far away, like little bursts of bubbles that slipped up from somewhere deep, deeper than the long ago drowning undertow of past regrets. And when they came, most of the time I could control them, just shrug them off or think them away. But at night, when I lied alone, there came no real sleep. Whether it was just the fact that the bed was half empty, or the torrent of days emotions had more than exhausted me, I couldn’t get even an hour of rest. That’s when the violence came to me in those dreams–dreams that I so much needed to find some peace, but no, the first couple just seemed so random, so annoying, nothing but built up aggression, dreams of fighting in a checkout line with some slow ass bastard. Dreams of work and taking everything out on some rude redneck bystander. But then when I tried to think of other things I just thought of her. And of him. Whether there really was a him before she left, or if he was just a safe place for her to fall. And that’s where I wanted to direct my wrath.

I pictured him dying and bleeding. Pictured myself setting his families house on fire. Finding him after he got off work. A couple of buddies of mine would sneak up behind him and hold him still and I would beat the living christ out of him.

And now I digress into

My Wedding Ring
(and Martin Luther’s, too.)

My wedding ring is unique. It’s not the typical plain gold boring wedding ring. That’s not me. Too boring. We found a ring that fit me, fit my personality, and matches somewhat the only qualifier I have to get past St. Peter and make my place in heaven: this tattoo of Christ that I got on my chest when I was 16, and man my mom was pissed. But this wedding ring that we found and she placed on my finger, is the greatest wedding ring of all time. It’s a replica of Martin Luther’s wedding ring. Not to mention that she was Lutheran before she became Methodist so we could get a discount at the church. And why didn’t I object? Because the Methodists made a bit of sense. And the priest wasn’t a skull collector. He was a good man.

The event was epic and awesome. And I show off this ring to everyone. They say what an original ring, but I tell them, “no it’s not really original at all. It’s a replica of Martin Luther’s wedding band. Then I have to tell them usually who he was and about the Protestant Reformation and the whole history about him, a priest, wishing to marry. Sometimes I stretch the details or don’t give enough. But I tell them about all of the symbolism on the ring itself. Christ crucified and bent around my finger. The inlaid stone, the red garnet, a symbol of Christ’s blood. The spear. The anchor. Jacob’s Ladder. But my favorite bit of symbolism on the ring is the pair of dice underneath Christ’s crucified feet. Its represents the Roman soldiers not wishing to rip up and divide Christ’s garb once he was taken down. The soldier’s gambled for it. They rolled the bones for Christ’s clothes. And I grew up Baptist with the slight echo of hellfire and damnation that said gambling is evil, not to mention I’m the son of a bingo addict mother. But the dice themselves are by far the coolest thing on the ring.

Over the course of the month, since she’s been gone, and debated returning home or continuing things with her new boyfriend, I’ve taken the ring off so many times and placed it back on and off and on my finger again. I haven’t worn it in maybe a week and I’ve decided to wear it back on my right ring finger. I’m doing this for two reasons, or maybe three.

One: that its just a really cool ring if you’re married or not,

Two: it’ll remind me that once was enough, and

Three: (more occasion specifically), I will wear this ring on my right hand, because well, I’m right handed. And one day if the nightmarish dreams are merely visions and the demons get me I’ll cross paths with that fat rat bastard. I will implant this crucifix on his gawdam forehead, or maybe better yet, this stone, this garnet, the blood of Christ, coming from my right hand just might yield enough power that I knock that motherfucker’s teeth down his gawdam throat.

But you see, even that, even in those dreams, even with every bullshit thing that had happen I knew that I couldn’t do it. And as cheesy as it sounds forgiveness, fucking forgiveness is what its all about. But then again, who can 100% forgive?

©2006-2007 NONCO Media, L.L.C.