In a small church somewhere in Mexico. His eyes are closed, his hands are folded in prayer, his head is dacing he dusty stone floor.
Heavenly Father, he thinks, I have sinned. Please, find it in yourself to forgive me...
The man is a wanted dealer, a prisoner almost everywhere except this anonymous little abbey he has known since his youth.
A priest walks past him, the man's generous donations in hand. He periodically gives so well to help ease the weight of at least his own soul, even if it does him no good in God's eyes.
The man open his eyes slowly, turning his gaze towards the bleeding, forlorn Christ that adorns the wall above the altar.
Then his eyes bulge in confusion and surprise as Jesus pulls a 12 gauge from behind the cross, leaps down, and kicks him hard in the face. The man tumbles backward, breathless, and the disguised officer tosses aside his crown of thorns and presses the shotgun to the drug dealer's head, screaming hoarse orders...
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