Private
When I was a kid, I got shifted through foster homes a whole bunch. Some of them were good people, some weren't.
When I was seven I went to live with Phil and Mandy Farrell. Phil was a teacher, Mandy was a housewife, far as I remember. My other families had some religious folk and all that. I'd been to church here and there, and I guess I believed as much as any kid.
Anyway, Phil and Mandy had a few other foster kids. Phil and Mandy were super-religious. After a few weeks, Phil and Mandy found out I'd been sneaking out to throw firecrackers with some other kids. They decided to baptize me. So they shaved me head to toe, filled the bathtub up with hot water and held me under. I thrashed like a fucking shark with a hook in it's jaw. When I came back up, my skin was red and my eyes hurt, but I could see Mandy in the doorway, and she smiled at me. She smiled at me, like I'd done something to be proud of, like I'd chosen something.
So you want some advice from old Babcock? This thing you got, this crisis of faith, it's...it's just you realizing something. God is a fairytale. God is a sick joke. God is...God is a big excuse. Nah, nah, God is a roadblock. You probably want something, but God won't let you have it. So fuck him. Fuck that bastard son of a bitch.