"So he's gone now. This is even worse than the first time. Why would he just... go?" Jesus of Suburbia lamented

"Maybe he wanted to be more than some icon of wrath and hate. Gloria was the one person who treated me like an actual human, not just an addict or a pothead. She was perfect; the saint, the angel, the guiding star, she deserves someone who can hope. Someone who still has his innocence," Christian knew what he was doing. He was wish he could be the perfect boyfriend, wishing he could be worthy of her.

"Least you still got a photo of her," Jesus commented.

"Photo?"

"I know people." he tossed the photo to Christian. "I was gonna keep it for myself. Looks like you need it more."

Christian looked at it. Gloria was smiling and his arm was around her. I'm sorry, he told the photo, I'm sorry I screwed up your life. If I was never born you could live a happy life.

He noticed he was folded over in it. Well, at least things are right now.

"Whatsername!" Jesus called.

"Whaddya want?" she demanded. "I'm in your car, you know, for obvious reasons."

Christian never thought about Gloria that way before. She just wasn't that kinda girl. But he thought about it now. What would it be like? Him and her that close... she would be soft and warm and maybe even fragile. Her hair would be sticking to her forehead and he would feel the skin on her back.

Powerful thoughts.

"Oh, how sweet of you!" Jesus of Suburbia called back to his undressed girlfriend. "Be there in a sec." he looked at Christian. "Gotta go screw her, catch you later."

"Your best friend just died and you just wanna fuck your girlfriend?" Christian asked, curious and disgusted at the same time.

"Everyone has their own way to deal with grief. My first stage, sex in my car."

Christian rolled his eyes and made his way under the bridge. Maybe things would make sense there.

Someone offered him a drink. There were a lot of bottles of whiskey....

He did this before and new how it worked. Everyone was circled around him and was yelling "Go! Go! Go! Go!" There was a bottle of whiskey in his hand. Ah, what the hell?, he decided and downed the entire bottle.

The crowd cheered him on and once more, he felt accepted. Maybe not loved but accepted.

He smoked some pot, popped some pills, downed another gallon of whiskey and was destroying himself, inside and out.

They all cheered for him, being a such destructive bastard like that.

"I am the evil those charlatan fanatics preach against!" he yelled in his drunk voice. "and, you know something? I am not fucking around with this, I mean it. I will march out in the first line and take down all those liars and cheats for GLORIA NESSER, the last of the bleeders!"

He was really screwed up inside. I love you GLORIA NESSER!, he wanted to shout. The pills weren't taking affect yet. And why should they?, he thought, I don't need to get fucked or kicked around by something that doesn't even work! Hey Gloria, missed me, missed me, now you gotta kiss me!

He wished she would. But I'm not worth it, he reminded himself. She got so close to saving James--no--Jimmy, but in the end it doesn't matter if you got close. If you don't succeed, you lose and that's it.

"You know something else? I say fuck all this corruption, in the government and religious freaks and this freaking war in the Middle East! Burn it to the ground! It's fuckin' all Bush's fault and we all hafta pay for it! Destroy it all! Leave no evidence behind!" by now, Christian was standing on some armchair giving his speech like a beautiful girl he knew and loved. Still love, he corrected himself.

The disciples started mockingly throwing mini-bottles, bowing and grabbing at his ankles. He merely kicked them away, pulled out his gun and aimed it at their heads to show he wasn't joking. Someone pushed him from behind. All of the sudden, Christian was on the ground throwing his fists at his attackers.

For the most part his eyes were closed. When they weren't he swore he saw a beautiful girl in a short skirt, striped T-shirt, red jacket and high-heeled boots. There was concern on her face an she started running toward him. Gloria?, he thought, it can't be....

He pulled out his gun and with high, drunken aim he shot at the disciples without actually shooting them. The whole time he was yelling out "GLORIA!"

Eventually, our impaired hero passed out.