The Night I Don’t Remember

 

As we know, I do my best to share the stories of my readers. This one really has no direct category to be placed in, but I will add it to the collection of great stripper and strip bar stories. The reader who submitted this story asked to remain unidentified for professional reasons. No, I don’t know what is meant by that, but I always abide by requests and people see it when they read stuff here. I have seen this happen in real life more than once, like every day. One would be amazed what people leave at a strip bar. One would be surprised the efforts people go through to get their stuff back. And, yes, unfortunately it is kinda like talking with a giggly five year old when you call a strip bar, its always been that way because she is never hired for her people skills on the phone, she is hired to be the first thing you see when you walk thru the doors so you go DAMN! let me in. When one enters a strip bar it is like walking through the portal to an alternate universe, often one needs to pinch themselves because the world is cruel outside the doors. So, allot of weird shit happens in a strip bar, but then again a strippers job is to separate a visitor from as much of his/her money in the shortest amount of time, every time. With that being said, read the email.

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Begin email———————

I went to the strip club the other night…allegedly.  I’m not sure it counts though because I don’t remember being there, much less remember driving home.  “Oh the humanity Grayson, the humanity,” I hear the voices saying.  “How dare you drive home black-out drunk; you could have killed someone!”  Shut thefuck up right now and let me finish you interrupting ass-hag!  I didn’t quite drive home drunk and I do specifically remember one incident from the night…being woken at 3:30am by a security guard(?) while passed out in my truck in some establishment’s parking lot.  Whose parking lot it was…I was totally and completely unsure of.  After that, I am wholly unaware of the events except for the fact that I slept for the next 26 hours straight, missing work and occasionally waking up from some pretty twisted dreams of disembodied heads, parallel universes and ex-girlfriends wanting to “give it another shot”…again; then dumping me and shitting – both figuratively and literally – on me and my life.  I mean, this heartless cheating cunt had the audacity to…wait, what the fuck was I talking about?  Oh yeah, right…blacking out at a strip club and not remembering; I’m the good guy.  Anyway, it was like the movie The Hangover, minus the ‘wolf-pack’ and a whole lot more depressing.  Like our lovable characters from the film, I was (possibly) drugged with GHB and had to follow vague clues I’d unknowingly left myself in order to find, not a lost friend and groom for an imminent wedding the following morning, but my debit card and driver’s license.  So yeah, a completely sad version of the now classic comedy.

The entire night started with an innocent trip to a bar, not to drink, but to sit way back in a corner booth with my notebook (actual paper-type book you write in with pens; not a computer…I ain’t fuckin’ rich folks).  Yes, I said that shit with my nose in the air like some pretentious hipster at Star Bucks; feel free to punch me if you ever see me.  Anyway, how I got from said bar to, what I later found out to be Cabaret East, I have no fucking idea; but I figured my notebook might have a clue, since I’m always leaving myself notes.  I had 20 pages of some seriously fucked up and twisted shit written in there that I am proud to say I loved, and don’t actually know when I wrote it that night.  When I got done high-fiving myself and making mental notes to write shit-faced drunk (or drugged) more often, I noticed 2 phone numbers on the last page of writing.  One had the name of a tattoo parlor and the other was for a person named Corrin.  Intrigued, I picked up my cell phone ready to dial her(?) number until I came to the sudden realization that I had to have used my GPS since I surely had no idea how to get where I went or how to get home.  Sure enough, my GPS was the last app I used that night.  I searched the ‘recent addresses’, plugged that shit into Google Search and voila, Cabaret East.  I got the phone number, called that bitch up and what follows is the conversation, verbatim, I had with the receptionist…as much as I can recall days later anyway:

Girl – Cabaret East

Me – Yeah, hi.  I believe I visited your fine establishment Sunday night, and whether I left by my own accord or was forcibly removed, I’m not sure, but I believe ya’ll might be in possession of my ID and debit card.

Girl – Um…what?

Me – I think I walked my tab.  Do you have my debit card?

Girl – Uh…I dunno.

(Silence for ten seconds)

Me – (irritated at this point) Can you…I dunno…look?!

Girl – Oh yeah (giggles), sure, one sec.

Me – Wait wait wait!

Girl – What?

Me – Don’t you need my name?!

Girl – (giggles again) Oh yeah…of course!

After talking to this brick wall of human intelligence for what felt like an eternity, I was finally able to extract from her that, yes, they did indeed have possession of my shit.  I hung up the phone, triumphant that I CSI’d the shit out of my situation,  while also ashamed-beyond-words at the same time because I still don’t know how my shit got there in the first place. I will be fucked until my literal day of recollection.

Later Tuesday evening, I went up to the titty club to retrieve my shit and was met by a big, burly, black mother fucker who looked like he’d choke me with my own intestines; who also happened to remember both, helping me to my truck as I vomited along the way AND waking me up at 3:30 in the AM to send my hobo-ass packing.  I thanked him for telling me about such obviously proud moments in my life, then  I swore to him that I’d been drugged; in return he handed me a bill with a smile…for just under $350.  I fought back maniacal fits of laughter, tears and the intense urge to vomit.

I wasn’t sure if I was playing out my fantasy of a poor man’s Hank Moody from Californication or if I was literally just fucked up enough to get myself into such shenanigans; because I don’t generally share much about my actual personal life other than the intense anger that I feel in general towards society, but I’m pretty sure some people at this point would consider a negative bank account due to a – for all intents-and-purposes – fake night of debauchery, as rock bottom; for me…it’s just another Sunday night.

As for Corrin…she is a stripper, who had as much recollection of me as I had for her; we will not be in touch.

End email————————–

I like this man’s references to movies and life in general. I have the answer he seeks. It wasn’t drugs, it’s deeper than that, its more mental than that, it was out his normal element if you ask me. Plus, writers are fucking out there in their own world anyway, no offense to y’all writers, but it’s true. People often overthink shit too, which is death to our brains, then add in strippers, titties, alcohol, a strip bar, blacking out, and one can see where the imagination just goes ape shit. Not to mention the movie reference, because those were some pretty fucked up movies. Neither here nor there, he solved his dilemma. Too bad he doesn’t remember what went down. Or does he? Maybe its his mind blocking shit that isn’t in his norm or his mind knows that if he recalls anything that he will be in mental disarray. Who knows.

Trapped Inside Herself

She used to be trapped inside of herself, the past demons cornering her into the alley of darkness hidden deep in the perception of her psyche. She fought the demons, as they surrounded her trying to suppress her and destroy her with the false illusion of her past becoming her reality again. This is what she saw every time she looked in the mirror. She never looked at the girl in the reflection staring back at her. Her focus never seemed to pertain to the aspects of her mortal body. What her attention was zoned on was beyond the flesh and blood of the girl poised in the mirror. She was in her soul that is where she was every time the mirror forced her to look upon the eyes of her being. Perhaps this is where the origin of her new self stemmed from, beginning with the reflections of the soul, creating a raging storm between past demons and the heart deep within, ending with the rebirth of something new. It seemed her past was chasing her. The translucent ghosts of her life in the past had come to combine as a clay and been molded into an entity of “what once was.” She thought they would haunt her forever, stalking the thoughts in her mind, stealing any sense of peace her being may have had contained. These were her demons, taunting her with everything she had been, whispering lies of what she was becoming.
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They were grotesque, but she found them beautiful, as she often found many dark disturbing things. Their appearance was something derived from her own imagination. Something she maybe had found in her gruesome wonderland. Black rose vines wrapped around their bodies, skin crafted of the shadows that once clung to her soul and smothered her with her fears. Their teeth were formed of the sharp razors, glinting silver, as she had once used them to pierce her skin, releasing her pain in the scarlet streams flowing outward from beneath her flesh. Their eyes were glossy, cold, and burning red, holding every drop that has ever cascaded down her cheek, and every crimson tear she had ever set free from her flesh. From deep inside they made shrieks that of a banshee, every wave of sound woven together by threads of every scream ever to have escaped her mortal being. Oozing from their mouths was the maroon wine she spilled from her body during her past attempts of erasing herself from this dominion. All these features formed perfectly together and created the Demon Fey standing still like statues, blocking her path out of the grimy alley.

She studied them, ignoring their beastly appearance, focusing only on their internal characteristics. She stared deep into their soul-less eyes, seeing them for what the real purpose of their false existence in her consciousness was. They were shadow tinted mirrors, reflecting the sins, regrets, heartache, and pain of her past. Looking into the reflections, she knew she should’ve ran from them and fled into the fog of the future and the present. Instead, her body refused to obey the request of her logic and slowly moved toward the demons. The demons also seemed daring and invaded the space between them. Their movement was quite gracious, resembling that of a dance. Perhaps they were dancing, their bodies swaying with each step, matching the melody of her past.

Her soul maybe should have felt some sense of fear, but all it felt was welcomed by the demons. It drew her nearer to them, the attraction pulling them together like the gravity between two magnets. The gap between her and the demons grew less and less. Without permission her hand reached out towards them, lightly brushing the skin of the demon nearest to her. At that moment when they had touched, anger-wired adrenaline injected into her body like a syringe filled with heroine. It flowed throughout her being, infesting her psyche with the emotions and instincts of a deranged animal. The atmosphere grew dense with the mists of her hatred, clouding the thoughts flickering through her mind. She closed her eyes and breathed in the haze, letting herself slip into the intensity of her emotions stemming from the past.When she opened her eyes and exhaled it seemed as if her breath paralyzed the universe, stealing the reality of time. The viridian-amber shade once filling her irises with life and being, now painted over with the amaranthine shades of insanity, coloring her eyes hollow. No longer had her own spirit dwelt within her body. Something twisted and deadly was lurking in her being, infesting her veins with madness, devouring her core with a newfound bloodlust.She looks up at the demons, her lips being consumed by a sinister grin. Not only did the insanity possess her soul it, it also began transforming her physical aspects. Her original hair had been about medium length touching just above the middle of her back, the layers gave it volume, adding a seductive characteristic to it. The color was something of a light shade of chestnut intertwined with strands of white, silver, gold, and copper. It looked as if it had been stitched together using fabrics of the sand, stardust, moonlight, sunshine, and the gleam of precious gems. But now insanity had bleached it white and grown it down to her knees. Her face took shape of a more mature structure. Her light pink lips grew plumper and kissed with a hint of deep rouge. Her already pale skin lost most of its pigment and was now pale like the winter snow. Her slender body filled in with curves, bust and hips connected by a smaller waist, forming a body that of a goddess. Ebony raven wings materialized in the space between her shoulder blades, ripping the clothes of her body as they grew to more than 8 feet in height and width.Her new form, driven by insanity, positions itself into a battle stance, knowing they were going to attack. She reaches down to her sides and pulls two swords (fabricated of darkness) from their sheaths. The universe grew still and quiet, every sound and movement hushed out of existence. She stares down her foes, waiting in silence until they make their move.
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The demons break the silence, darting toward her with the intentions of a malicious origin. She spreads her wings and soars into the air, demons following close behind her. She stops and turns around, they lunge at her violently, hoping to rip through her flesh and taste the sweetness of her bodily wine. Without effort, she swings her blades, severing the heads of the first group of enemies. More attack, coming at her from all angles. Without fault she defends, her long silver hair syncing to the rhythm of her body as she dances with her blades. She flits through the sky, the light of the moon caressing her skin serves as a spotlight, shimmering over her stage of twilight and mauve. Her blades sing as they leave the demons in crimson ribbons and scarlet rain. Her raven wings flutter and fall, landing her safely on the asphalt. The blood and corpses of her defeated opponents fall to ground like snow. Insanity disappears from her eyes.
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She looks up and sees the stars gazing down upon her, sparkling with what seemed to be a hint of hope for her destiny. Without turning back, she walks away, skin flawless and untouched by battle. She smiles knowing her past is dead and that the fate of the stars is wagering in her favor. Running, she spreads her wings and takes flight. Serenity overwhelms her being as she soars away from what had once chained down her soul. Leaving the corpses behind, her past dissipates from her thoughts and her shadow self is swept away from existence. Tonight she is born anew. Today she rises out of the debris and ash of the past as a reborn angel of darkness.

The Story Of A Blonde Equestrian

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Once upon a time a blonde decides to try horseback riding, even though she has had no lessons or prior experience. She mounts the horse unassisted and the horse immediately springs into motion. It gallops along at a steady and rhythmic pace, but the blonde begins to slip from the saddle. In terror, she grabs for the horse’s mane, but cannot seem to get a firm grip. She tries to throw her arms around the horse’s neck, but she slides down the side of the horse anyway. The horse gallops along impervious to it’s slipping rider. Finally, giving up her frail grip, she leaps away from the horse to try to throw herself to safety. Unfortunately, her foot has become entangled in the stirrup and she is now at the mercy of the horse’s pounding hooves as her head has struck against the ground again and again. As her head is battered against the ground, she is mere moments away from unconciousness when………. 

………..the Wal-Mart manager runs out and unplugs the horse in front of the store, bringing the blonde equestrian’s horror to a sudden and complete stop.

Posted From Scorpion Sting’s Motorola Droid Maxx!

From Behind My Green Eyes

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I remember my grandfather telling me one hot summer day a long time ago that everyone changes their mind and it is just a matter of time before it happens to me. I have waited more than a few years for this to happen. I have made some choices that other people haven’t been proud of. But, until recently I never knew that I was approaching a crossroads where I would be forced to make choices and forced to make changes. Life’s choices very rarely come without strings attached or without consequences, I have found this out the hard way more times than I want to count over the years. Before I begin with what I wrote in to say I just want to tell you I have been reading your blog for sometime now, even before it was WordPress hosted, and I found that I knew those people you write about and even know you. Knowing you is actually impossible because I know our paths have never crossed and I am pretty sure they never will, not because I don’t want to, because that would be cool, but it is because I live in Canada now. Making the switch from southern Florida to my home in Canada was almost as extreme as my changes have got, but wait, there’s more, the reason I wrote in, my crossroads, and my life altering mind change. If you go ahead and use my email I will greatly appreciate it, I don’t expect it tho, but I thought it was time that someone who understood a business that markets women to men and understands English might just be able to relate, something I don’t have way up here. I think I will take this opportunity to begin my story, the story of my life I left behind in Florida but will remain forever a part of me.

When I was twelve my parents divorced for many reasons and during everything I was brushed to the side and forgotten about. I lived with friends for nearly two weeks, continuing school and so forth, before my parents even realized I was gone. I hated the screaming, the fighting, and the blood. I was very lucky in a way, I was never subjected to the actual abusing but often I was made to sit and watch which in my opinion is just as bad. I never knew that my parents weren’t normal until I ran away. I left at age 13 and never looked back and left without a place to go. I never wanted to be found ever again. As the years went by I finished school under a completely made up name, in fact it wasn’t until I was 18 that I actually had a birth certificate and social security card. When I was 18 I was finally able to not live in the past, I was able to start looking forward and moving on, that the was the plan, and it almost happened, almost. I had always dreamed of a fairy tale life, being a model, and living in Europe somewhere. Shortly after turning 18 I found myself going to diffent parties almost every night, drinking too much, and waking up sometimes in a stranger’s bed. Then I met my prince one night. After a hard night of drinking I woke up in his house, still in my clothes, tucked in on his couch. I could smell breakfast and coffee being made and when I looked up over the back of the couch I saw him, he was older than me, in his forties, very well dressed, and looking very handsome. Over breakfast he tells me I can stay as long as I want, drive his cars, use his his pool, eat his food, and come and go as I pleased. Then, without a further word he left, I assumed he went to work. When he got home that night he had brought packages with clothing and shoes, make up and things to do my hair, bras and underwear, everything I just might need, except for a straight explanation. I was asked to get ready to go out because he had some friends and business associates that he wanted to introduce me to. I was shown into the master bath and he closed the door behind him as he left. When I got out of the shower I could see that he had brought everything into the bathroom and arranged it everywhere. Now I was wondering what he saw or if he watched but I wasn’t real concerned because so far he has been a true gentleman and nothing less. I chose to wear a very basic black cocktail dress, I hope he approves.

He barely batted an ear at me as he checked his watch, and gently guided men to the door of the garage. We got in his truck, backed out of the garage, and headed into the city. I had no idea where we were going which began to worry me, not quite into a panic, but I was watching where we were driving and nothing was familiar to me at all. We didn’t speak the entire 20 minutes of the drive, nor did we listen to the radio, we just drove through the dark silence of the night. We arrived at some kind of resort where we were escorted out of the truck by the valets and led up to the main doors. He looked at me and told me to remember, when asked or introduced, that I am his niece, visiting from California. I agreed and we continued on. We met allot of people as we made our way to a table which already had two men sitting at it. After a few hours of the men talking I was asked my one of them if I was ready to go to work in the morning. Not knowing what to say I looked at my prince, who was giving me a nod, so I said yes, absolutely. I still didn’t know what I was doing, I just went with it. The next morning I was dropped back off at this same resort and me a nice woman who had been waiting for my arrival. I was rushed to a room where a swarm of people began found my hair, my make up, and then I was told it was time for my wax. Wax? I was put in a room with an old Asian woman who undressed me completely and placed me on a table. I was waxed from the neck down front and back, not one hair remained, not even on my big toe. This was a very unique experience for me, never had that done before. As I laid on the table wrapped in moist warm blankets I was still wondering what in the hell I was doing here and why was all of this happening. After a while the door opened and a young man dressed in a suit carrying a notebook approaches me and asks if I am ready to rock-n-roll. Sure? I was asked to stand before him, as I did the Asian women removed the blankets, and there I stood in my birthday suit in front of this guy. As I tried to cover myself I was instructed to relax and let’s my arms down so I could stand up as straight as possible, meanwhile he walked around me a few dozen times as he wrote in his notebook. He motioned me to walk, to turn, and then to follow him out. We walked, me completely nude, down the hall and into another room where I was seated in a salon chair.

Within a few minutes a handful of people came in with a variety of carts and bags which they started unpacking all around me. The man with the notebook was sharing what he wrote with these people, pointing to me and answering questions they had. After show and tell was done he left and this small army swarmed in and began work. Someone doing god knows what to my hair, one started a facial, one started a manicure on my hands and then another with a pedicure. Each time I attempted to speak or ask questions I was immediately silenced. So, this is too bizarre, and I was really wanting to just leave, but escape was futile, I wasn’t going anywhere until I was let go. After a few hours the guy with the notebook came back to, what appeared to be, inspect me. He looked very pleased and was just short of congratulating the staff for a job well done. You see, I haven’t seen myself yet, as there have been no mirrors. The young mam explains I have an audition now and we needed to go to it. I just waltzed right out of butt ass naked following him down different halls, passing by numerous people, and then finally I was told to wait as he entered the room behind the closed door. When he returned he held the door open for me, explaining to follow the dots on the floor and stopping where there stopped. I was told to only speak if I was spoken to and not to squint. Squint? When the door shut it was completely dark, the only thing I saw were dots in the floor, which I followed until they eventually stopped. Moments after stopping I was flooded in light, but only me, only where I was standing, I could still not see where I was or who was in the room. I was very uncomfortable standing there naked with my hands on my hips. When I was asked to turn I did so, when I was told to stop I do so as well. This little drill happened over a dozen times before I was instructed to exit the way I entered and wait for my escort on the other side of the door. Next we went to what appears to be a doctors exam room where I was told to have a seat in the exam chair and wait to be seen by the doctor. When she came in she announced I was about to have a well woman exam and then I would be visiting the dentist. At this point, I had to ask, just what in the fuck was going on and I wanted to know who these people were. I got the silent treatment. After the exam I remained naked, and was led to yet another room where my teeth were examined, cleaned, and whitened. I was told to wait for my escort once again. He came in and told me I had done a fine job and everyone was very pleased with me. I was left alone in this Barbie dream closet full of every designer thing imaginable. Thinking I could get dressed I browsed the different dresses. Finally, there is a mirror, finally I can see what they have done to me. When I looked in the mirror the person staring at me was not the person who stared back at me when I woke up that morning. I had a hard time believing I was looking at myself in the mirror.

After getting dressed, which was odd, because I didn’t find any bras and panties, I was taken out to the front of the resort and put into an awaiting car. In the car was a man whose voice I recognized from the dark room, he explained I would be traveling with him now and from this moment forward we will be husband and wife. What? I woke up many hours later in a big fancy hotel room. My head was pounding and I really had to go to the bathroom. Then I got the shock of my life, as I looked into the toilet water I see blood, lots of blood. After cleaning myself up I ran out to use the phone and found an envelope laying on my dress. Inside of it was a release of marital contract and $100,000.00 cash. I quickly got dressed and rushed down to the lobby but nobody would speak to me, nobody. What is going on. When I went outside my prince charming was there standing beside his truck and tells me to get in. Not knowing what to do I got in. We ended back at his house and he tells ,e all of my questions can wait until the morning and that all of the money o was given is actually mine. I was then sent to bed like a child. I showered so I could scrub, but no matter how hard I scrubbed I kept feeling dirtier each time. All I can wonder is what is happening to me. That I cried myself to sleep hoping this was all some kind of fucked nightmare. Sunrise came too soon, I was still where I went to sleep. I felt disappointed and disillusioned because I could only assume what was next.

My prince was gone when I went to the kitchen. There was a note on the table which said I had the next few days off but when he returned Friday be ready to get back to work. Ready to get back to work? Is he a modern day pimp? What’s going on because I cannot and will not be one more person’s one night stand bride. It will not be happening twice I can promise. Just like that I packed a small bag and bailed out the door. Not knowing where I was going I wandered around until after dark, until I figured out how to get away, far away. Then I got in my head, I am leaving the country, I am getting the hell as far away as as I can. I found my way to the train station to get some place away from here so I could get to an airport. While on that train I stayed awake, I watched everything and everyone, I was tired but refused to sleep, I figured I could sleep when I got to wherever I was headed. Once in another city I went to the airport and just looked around at all the destination posters everywhere and then I found the perfect place, Canada. I plan on disappearing, I plan on not being found, because I am not going back to Florida.

A note from Scorpion Sting: I added this story to the Bartender section of my blog not because I understand anything she has done in her life but because her story reminds me of many girls who found being a stripper was not the life for them. Plus, I like being able to share people’s life stories so that maybe, just maybe, someone somewhere makes a connection. I understand my blog is small and not too widely known, plus the person who writes on it is a sarcastic jackass, but I also know if I like reading these stories than one or two people more might also. No follow up contact was made per her request. She just wanted to be able to see her story printed somewhere by somebody. Therefore, where the story ends is where it ends as far as I am concerned. I don’t know the time frame or anything else other than what you have read in this post. Sometimes real life seems stranger than fiction. If it is made up then kudos to her, if not then I am glad she got the hell out. The image was found using Google search. The story came to me untitled so I did my best, for some reason I just imagined her having bright green eyes but I’m sure I will never know.

What Are The Seven Deadly Sins?

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  • PRIDE is excessive belief in one’s own abilities, that interferes with the individual’s recognition of the grace of God. It has been called the sin from which all others arise. Pride is also known as Vanity. Your punishment in Hell will be: You’ll be broken on the wheel. Associated symbols: Pride is linked with the horse and the color violet.
  • ENVY is the desire for others’ traits, status, abilities, or situation. Your punishment in Hell will be: You’ll be put in freezing water. Associated symbols: Envy is linked with the dog and the color green.
  • GLUTTONY is an inordinate desire to consume more than that which one requires. Your punishment in Hell will be: You’ll be force-fed rats, toads, and snakes. Associated symbols: Gluttony is linked with the pig and the color orange.
  • LUST is an inordinate craving for the pleasures of the body. Your punishment in Hell will be: You’ll be smothered in fire and brimstone. Associated symbols: Lust is linked with the cow and the color blue.
  • ANGER is manifested in the individual who spurns love and opts instead for fury. It is also known as Wrath. Your punishment in Hell will be: You’ll be dismembered alive. Associated symbols: Anger is linked with the bear and the color red.
  • GREED is the desire for material wealth or gain, ignoring the realm of the spiritual. It is also called Avarice or Covetousness. Your punishment in Hell will be: You’ll be boiled alive in oil. Associated symbols: Greed is linked with the frog and the color yellow.
  • SLOTH is the avoidance of physical or spiritual work. Your punishment in Hell will be: You’ll be thrown into snake pits. Associated symbols: Sloth is linked with the goat and the color light blue.

The seven deadly sins are the sins to which we as humans are most susceptible because of our fallen human nature. They are the tendencies that cause us to commit all other sins.  They are called “deadly” because, if we engage in them willingly, they deprive us of sanctifying grace, the life of God in our souls. The Seven Deadly Sins have been in existence since man’s exile from paradise. Ever since the days of Adam of Eve, we encounter seven deadly sins. These seven deadly sins make a definite borderline between what is good and what is bad. All stories in Bible mention each of these sins which result in death and Hell. These stories educate and instruct followers about man’s tendency to sin. Pride, Envy, Gluttony, Lust, Anger, Greed and Sloth are the major sins. These sins represent the opposition to the seven major virtues, which each person should possess from the point of view of Christianity. They are accordingly opposed to the seven primary virtues of Humility, Love, Faith, Self-Control, Kindness, Generosity, and Zeal.

So, my big question will be is it possible for any man, woman, or child to live their life to the fullest without Pride, Envy, Gluttony, Lust, Anger, Greed and Sloth. I may not agree with the Bible but I do know this little tidbit, based on the writings found inside it, and that is that the sinister places described within are very descriptive, very colorful, and very ruthless. Again, as it is written, Christians are forced to fear being alive and just living their lives. Doesn’t seem like a fair way to live one’s life if you ask me. Can y’all imagine if the authors of the New Testament were around today? Could y’all imagine the horror movies they would be capable of writing? My own observations of the Bible are like this, IT is full of drama, horror, death, doom, “sin”, adventure, and fantasy. I repeated get told not to take the Bible literally because it isn’t written literally. Final question, then I’m done. If I’m not to take the Bible as literal does this mean it’s not a biography, that it’s not historical, and not factual? Seems to be the case, therefore, in my eyes, it remains some of the best fictional writing known to mankind.

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