A/N: Aloha! Teen Dreamer here, as you've probably already ascertained. Out of respect for those hard-working individuals here at FanFiction.Net, I've decided to go out on a limb, and – shock! – write a fic here at our beloved Bible section. (The pronunciation of beloved was forced, by the way.)
This story is based on the Simple Plan song – incidentally entitled God Must Hate Me. If I encounter any copyright technicalities because of this, I'll call the accusing party liars and run screaming from the room.
Enjoy.
God Must Hate Me by Teen Dreamer
Prologue.
D'you ever get the feeling you've been created for the express purpose of entertaining a higher being? Well……chances are, you haven't if you're not religious. But I am, so I think that little analogy is quite fitting to a situation that befell me not long ago……
My name is Christopher Abrams. People call me Corky, though God only knows why. I think it's one of those nicknames parents decide to bestow their children with prior to actually naming them, like Bud or Scout or Doogie. I'm not especially partial to it……but the ladies seem to get a kick out of it. Which is fine by me.
I've been a Christian since I was eleven. A devout one. Operating on a 'good deeds won't get you to heaven, but that's no excuse to not do them' philosophy had made me quite the player in my church community (as if it's some sort of biker gang.) And with my selfless obedience came love & respect, of which I had in spades, if I do say so myself.
I remember, when I was twelve, how the church elders would cluck their tongues & stroke their whiskers, musing over my influence as a child of God. There was nothing I couldn't accomplish with my go-getter attitude & boyish good looks.
But the more observant of you may have picked up on my use of past tense.
There came a time when my entire world collapsed. Everything I had worked to establish – my reputation, my relationships and my dignity – was wrenched from my grasp and trod on with golf shoes before my very eyes. My mother affectionately refers to me as 'a modern-day Job' after what I affectionately refer to as 'my week in hell.'
It happened in my Senior Year at San Marino High in California, back in 1997. Looking back now, it's kinda funny……at the time, I was suicidal.
If I remember correctly, it began on a day like any other……