Chapter Text
I love you Jesus:
The morning sings as I awake. The trees rustle, the birds tweet in beautiful songs, the people walk with a pattering, and the world harmonizes in perfect rhythm. Everything appears to me in perfection. This is my world, to me it is perfect. I jump out of bed with glee in my heels and trip on my fat fucking cat, causing him to jump back with a high-pitched yelp. I sympathize with Garfield for a bit. His hardships inspire me. We both know that God watches over us but dang why can’t he lay off my cat? Every trip up I go through, I know it’s for him. I know everything will turn out perfect in the end for me.
Talk to You:
The door slams behind me as I race out realizing the time is 8:30. I had spent too much time praying, trying to connect, trying to find answers. I must not utter his name in disdain but I wonder when, or if, he will ever reach me. If my efforts will ever be worth it. I know I am too curious, in fact, I would sacrifice myself just to hear a word from God himself, but I wonder countless times what I must do to get His divine attention.
Goodbye, My Danish Sweetheart:
I make it to the store, It’s 8:40, not too late. Something is tugging in the back of my head, why did I need to get here earlier than eight thirty? I shake the feeling away and pick up a few pieces of fruit, God’s gift ya know. I look around and spot the apples who call my name like I’m the last person on earth. y/n, eat me out, they seem to squeak. I ignore their cries busying myself with testing the ripeness of a watermelon.
I look up after hearing another sound. However, this one was different. It was the sound of a goofy gun, one with a shooting speed of more than three miles per hour. I duck. Doesn’t this only happen in schools? I trip. Fuck .
Judas:
Jon Arbuckle, that plain but handsome man. He stands with foreign confidence, unnatural to his twink-like features.
“Give me back what’s mine,”
“What’s yours?” I feign a large amount of innocence.
“You know who I mean.” Of course, I knew who he spoke of. The cat Jon claimed could telepathically speak to whoever he wanted, Garfield. Technically I had stolen him. But, here me out, it was Jon who had betrayed me first, and what could I have done but take something that he had no idea how to live without? That lonely man. I was supposed to be his star, a guardian angel almost. Yet here we were. Ex-lovers. I could see the desperation in his eyes. The desperation for the company of Garfield, not me.
“You get zero bitches.” I hear myself speak with ice dripping from my tongue. My head pounds as it takes all my energy to turn around and prance out the sliding doors. But not before grabbing the blush-colored apple without a thought of what it could hold. The gun sounds thrice never hitting me.
He was Judas delivering the kiss that doomed Jesus, setting in motion the crucifixion. It was God’s plan, I wasn’t one to judge.
The Bidding:
Fear evades my head and I lose track of time. I end up in the middle of a deserted road. Happens to me all the time but I take another step knowing eventually, I would end up where I needed to be.
I pause in my steps as I feel a hidden desire to take out the apple that lay at the top of my insulated grocery bag. It calls for me. I just know it. I beheld it before my flawless face when it begins to speak with bold lettering. DO YOU WANT GOD TO ANSWER? JUST EAT ME. I HOLD A PATHWAY DIRECTLY TO HIS KNOWLEDGE. Didn’t a similar thing happen to Eve? I shuddered from the thought of the effect of that apple of knowledge. TRUST ME, I’M NOT LIKE THAT ONE. THE ONLY FLAW IS JUDGMENT IN FRONT OF GOD HIMSELF. The shine of the apple reflects the brightness radiating off my glowing face. Judgment from God? That’s exactly what I’m looking for. OH YEAH AND TO KEEP YOU ON YOUR TOES I JUST SENT A TRUCK OUR WAY. YOU WILL BE CRUSHED IN EXACTLY 5 SECONDS SO YOU BETTER MAKE UP YOUR MIND. Panic sweeps my inhibition and I take a bite. It tastes sickly sweet. I force myself not to spit it out. This is what I want. I can’t just take it backsies. The second I swallow, the surroundings begin to blur. I’m-
“Wake uuuup.” A silly voice rings. I blink away fatigue as a blurry figure shakes me like a salt shaker.
“GARFIELD?” He lets go of me and I continue to shake.
“Don’t keep him waiting y/n.” He mewls ominously.
I can feel my mouth continue to be held agape as Garfield takes my balled-up fist and opens a door with a sign saying #1 Baller in beautifully articulated cursive. I just knew whoever was on the other side of the door was important. More significant than Jesus Christ himself.
The door creaks and I run inside. “WHAT JESUS? YOU ARE THE NUMBER ONE BALLER?”
There stood Jesus balling. He shoots a hoop and I feel a breath leave my thick throat. The swoosh of the net sounds and I yell a quick cheer. Not even Troy Bolton from the High School Musical Franchise could compete with the number one baller Jesus Thomason Christ.
“Whoops,” Garfield exclaims out loud, “ wrong door,”.
He ushers me out, and I take one more glance at the baller. He looks me straight in the eye and tries to get me with his baller rizz. He waves, and I wave back. I turn back frowning though, the chances of meeting him again seem slim but I have to move on. Especially since I am not in charge here, in this strange dream world.
Garfield leads me to another door. This door causes a shiver down my veins. Its plainness sticks out like a nail on marble walls. Garfield knocks this time, a hesitation that seems uncharacteristic for the fearless feline. A familiar voice yet one that I had never heard before sounds and I look up.
“Come”