When We Were Catholics - Chapter 3: Death Comes To Pikachu

Sometimes I have conversations with Fr John in my head.

“he’s gay, isn’t he?

“who? Fuckface?”

“yeah. he’s gay.”

“no he isn’t. he’s a priest.”

“he’s gotta be gay for you.”

“he’s not gay for me…”

“then why did he rape you?”

And the conversation ends with him walking away, just like that.

Just like that,

I start remembering. It’s like the last season of single’s inferno, only except showing cinematic scenes of two hot Koreans coyly flirting with each other,

It’s giving a play-by-play of the battle royale,

The 2009 National Collegiate Debate Competition.

Call him fuckface, call him thor, call him thundergod, heck, even call him pika-pikachu,

But,

The reigning champion of National Collegiate Debate Competition for three years running is the one and only,

Brian Eddy.

My arch-nemesis.

Three times my size in width, ½ my height, and older than me by at least five years,

Brian Eddy can convince a rock it’s alive.

Delivering logical syllogisms one after another, but still so filled with cognitive biases and flawed mental heuristics that you wouldn’t be able to distinguish him from Ku Klux Klan (triple-K? more like triple threat), Brian Eddy is a force to be reckoned with.

My sparring partner Matt thought he had the hots for me. And thought it would be a good idea for me to “jiggle” and “nudge” my boobs every time we were at the podium, thinking it would distract “Fatso” from his arguments.

But, little did Matt know…

Brian Eddy doesn’t have the hots for me.

He actually has the hots for…

“You gay for me? My girlfriend says you’re gay for me.”

Argue yourself out of that, thunderfucker.

“Does that make… sense to you? That I’m gay? I’m Catholic, how can I be gay?”

He’s squirming. And salivating. And cross eyed under his thick Gucci glasses. Knew it was a good idea to steal Matt’s shirt, so he had to go around shirtless, showing his sizeable six pack.

“You fucking bastard. You creep me out.”

And so Matt stomps out, dragging me with him.

It’s not my fault that my ex-boyfriend had a chip on his shoulder so big that you could mistake it with his head, from all the times gay guys sexually harassed him… need I remind everyone of The Great Sexual Offense of Seventh Grade? Involving a mixed Hispanic-Chinese Spanish teacher and an elite private school?

-

“Are you serious?”

Fr John grins at me incredulously.

“That really happened.”

“Yes, THAT really happened.”

“Fr Fuckface is really gay? I thought he just raped me because I was getting antsy and wanted to take the pastor position from him.”

Stop being sarcastic, you saw the way he was dribbling saliva all over his beard after I showed that picture of you with a six pack and a solo cup on the big projector screen after my awesome presentation for Goldman Sachs at the Hamptons five years ago.”

“Best run on sentence ever.”

He takes another Mike’s Hot Honey chip from the bag and chews on it.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

-

And that was when it started.

Our conspiracy to take down the one and only undefeated…

Pika-pika!