Abraham and religion: a compilation (The Long Walk)
It was Abraham, 2. He was tall and disjointed-looking; he walked in a perpetual shamble. “I think we all might take a moment or two to stop and think about whatever kind of sex life there may be in the next world.”
“I get Marilyn Monroe,” McVries said. “You can have Eleanor Roosevelt, Abe old buddy."
Abraham gave him the finger.
“Let this ground be seeded with salt,” McVries said suddenly, very rapidly. “So that no stalk of corn or stalk of wheat shall ever grow. Cursed be the children of this ground and cursed be their loins. Also cursed be their hams and hocks. Hail Mary full of grace, let us blow this goddam place.” McVries began to laugh.
“Shut up,” Abraham said hoarsely. “Stop talking like that.”
“All the world is God,” McVries said, and giggled hysterically. “We’re walking on the Lord, and back there the flies are crawling on the Lord, in fact the flies are also the Lord, so blessed be the fruit of thy womb Percy. Amen, hallelujah, chunky peanut butter. Our father, which art in tinfoil, hallow’d be thy name.”
“I’ll hit you!” Abraham warned. His face was very pale. “I will, Pete!”
“A praaayin’ man!” McVries gibed, and he giggled again. “Oh my suds and body! Oh my sainted hat!”
“I’ll hit you if you don’t shut up!” Abraham bellowed.
“God will punish him,” Hank Olson was blaring with dead and unearthly assurance. “God will strike him down.”
“Shut up or I’ll strike you down myself,” Abraham said.
“Jesus, how do you keep going?” Abraham asked, and there was a kind of religious fear in his voice.
The crowd’s cheers rose in volume again, and a ghostly green sign came out of the darkness: INTERSTATE 95 AUGUSTA PORTLAND PORTSMOUTH POINTS SOUTH.
“That’s us,” Abraham whispered. “God help us an’ points south.”
Scramm looked at them dumbly, then shook his head slowly from side to side. “Why’d I have to get sick? I was going good, I really was. Odds-on favorite. Even when I’m tired I like to walk. Look at folks, smell the air . . . why? Is it God? Did God do it to me?”
“I don’t know,” Abraham said.
“Why’d you take off your shirt?” he asked Abraham suddenly.
“It was making my skin itch. It was raising hives or something. It was a synthetic, maybe I have an allergy to synthetic fibers, how the hell should I know? What do you say, Ray?”
“You look like a religious penitent or something.”