Chapter 16: God Talk Radio

The freak we call God Talk Radio is standing outside. He’s shouting, as usual. Filling my hangover full of brimstone and jive.

PRAISE JAYSUS, OH MY BRUTHAS!

PRAISE JAYSUS, OH MY SISTAS!

REPENT YOUR SINS, OH MY BRUTHAS

OH MY SISTAS!

FOR GAWD SHALL BRING YOU INTO JUDGEMENT!

OH LAWD! OH HOLAY JAYSUS!

“I hate God Talk Radio,” Tabitha says.

“Amen,” I reply.

I raise the mini blinds and look out the window. God Talk Radio's down on the sidewalk, hands hidden in his coat pockets, ears hidden under his beanie cap. Breathing fog. Breathing fire.

REPENT YO SINS. PUT DOWN THAT CRACK PIPE. PUT DOWN THAT HUSTLA MAGAZINE. FOR THE DAY OF JUDGEMENT IZZA COMIN!

“In bed,” Tabitha adds, giggling.

Have you ever played the game where you add the words "in bed" to the end of your fortune cookie fortune? You know, like, if your fortune says, LOVE IS NOT FOR THE WEAK OF HEART, you read it, "When one door closes, another opens … in bed."

Tabitha and I do the same thing, but with God Talk Radio quotes. Every time God Talk Radio says something, we finish his sentence by saying, “In bed.”

YOU ARE ALL SINNERS … (in bed).

OPEN YOSELF TO GAWD … (in bed).

FEEL THE HOLAY HAND OF JAYSUS UPON YOU … (in bed).

Tabitha’s hunched in front of her computer, looking at autopsy photos. I’m sprawled out on her Nightmare Before Christmas sheets.

The Nightmare Before Christmas sheets are Tabitha’s favorite sheets. She contends that The Nightmare Before Christmas is the best movie ever made. Growing up, Tabitha loved two holidays above all others: Christmas and Halloween. When Tim Burton managed to successfully meld the two, she was hooked.

When Tabitha got the sheets, they were white with little Jack Skellingtons all over then. Now they are gray with faded little Jack Skellingtons all over them. She uses the sheets so often that they are slimed with a perpetual coat of some weird funk. Even after she washes them, they feel like greasy hair.

“When are you going to get rid of these?” I ask.

“Dude, you do not get rid of the Jack Skellington sheets. My mom bought those for me when I got my first double bed. They are classics!”

“They’re disgusting.”

“Go sleep in your own bed, then. I’m studying.”

Tabitha is always studying. Looking at autopsy photos. Reading biographies on John Wayne Gacy. On The Zodiac Killer, Charles Manson, Ted Bundy. I wonder if the knowledge that Tabitha’s gleaning from all this studying will help our shooting.

I’m sure it will.

“All right,” I say. “I’m out.”

“See ya.”

Tabitha doesn’t even look up from the computer.