Holy Sweet Tea

CW: Physical violence, gore or abuse; Mental health, profane language

Holy Sweet Tea

There’s gravel and sand diggin’ into my left cheek. Maybe it’s rainin’ a little, just a little, but it’s warm rain. And, I’m so fuckin’ hot… Just want sweet tea. Cold, cold, holy, sweet tea...

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It’s dark. I’m wet, rain and sweat, so much sweat. Feels like I’m oozin’. Hot wet. Cheek hurts – sort of. What am I doin’? Car tires grit on the road behind me. Up and behind me. Somethin’…

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Where am I? I have to get up! Sweat runs across my greasy forehead. Need sweet tea. A gallon or two of cold, cold sweet tea. I’m so thirsty… and hot…

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I’m here again. At least I think I was here before, the gravel, the grit and sand, the road behind me and I’m hot! God, I am so hot! Shake my head against the gravel. Cain’t use the lord’s name like that! I’m a horrible sinner! But the lord will forgive me. I do his work – me and Brother Copeland. Have to get up now, the Waffle House and sweet tea. Cold, sweet, silky, holy, sweet tea.

I move my left fingers just to find them. The sand scrabbles in front of me just a bit, I stop and it scrabbles some more. Somethin’s movin’ there and it ain’t me! I pop open my right eye. Glowin’ demon eyes are right there and there are hundreds lookin’ back at me. Demons! Right here, right in front of me! I snap my eyes shut and try to wriggle back toward the road. I’m in a ditch. I cain’t wriggle backwards up a hill! I jump up! But it doesn’t work. Legs and arms won’t hold. I flop down to a mouthful of sand,

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There’s sand in my mouth, cain’t spit it out. It just grits up all in my teeth. Big fat bullets of rain are drillin’ all over my back and head. I hear them splashin’ in the water next to me. I lift up my head and look up through the streamin’ rain. Waffle House and its big yellow letters! It’s there! Right there! All I have to do is get up and walk maybe ten steps for my savior, sweet tea! God, I can almost feel it! Cold, smooth, silky and taste that sweet. God... Blasphemin’ again!

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More sand in my mouth – I spit and spit again. It does no good. Brother Copeland, now he wouldn’t be layin’ here next to no road, next to no marsh, spittin’ sand, tryin’ to get to no Waffle House. He’d just be in there, with his big pitcher of cold, cold, holy sweet tea and a plate of chicken and waffles. And he’d pour that tea from high, just like he pours that holy water – holy sweet tea, into one of them plastic glasses that’s always got them chips on the edge. And he’d just drink it down from that glass; his Adam’s apple be bobbin’ up and down and in and out. And he’d grab some passin’ demon-possessed man like me by the scruff off his neck and hold him down and wash the sand and gravel and hot and wet right off him with that holy sweet tea. And he’d pour it in his throat and the demon would leap from his mouth screamin’ and screamin’ with flames shootin’ from its body. And that man would be okay. No more demons. He’d be okay.

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I think I’ll just die here of heat and gravel. No one can see me, and to tell the truth, I’m glad of it. I ain’t worth it. I’m a demon-possessed fuckin’ idiot. Ain’t got no life worth nothin’. Never done nothin’ for no one. Just die here without that sweet tea.

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Somethin’s crawlin’ on my cheek. Maybe an ant? It’s irritatin’. Cain’t stand it. Its little stupid ant legs are steppin’ on me. Walkin’ up to my nose. Even if I am dyin’ I don’t have to deal with that shit. I pick up my hand to whack it and I miss – punch myself in the nose instead. Tears join the sweat and rain. Christ! Cain’t I do nothin’ right? Not even knock off a goddamn ant? And now, I punch myself in the fuckin’ nose! Thick hot blood leaks out and runs down my throat. Jesus Christ! Oh God! I am so sorry! I keep backslidin’. Backslidin’! I roll on my back, the rain is slappin’ me in the face and tryin’ to rinse away my sins. Stretch my arms out across the sand.

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Son of a bitch! My hand! Fuck, it hurts! My gritty damn eyes pop open. I yank and it yanks back! Let go! A gator has my hand! I beat at it with my other hand and try to pull away! I can feel its teeth crunchin’ harder and harder on my fingers. God, it fuckin’ hurts and I’m screamin’ and screamin’, but no one is comin’! The gator’s damn demon eyes are just glowin’ hot red in the Waffle House lights. “Get off! Get off! You fuckin’ demon!” It won’t let go!

Suddenly, Brother Copeland is standin’ by the dumpsters. His suit is immaculate. There are gator-demons all around him, waitin’ for chicken scraps. “Begone! Begone, you Satan!” we both yell and they slip and skid away and are cast back into the hell of the swamp. All but this one that’s takin’ off my fuckin’ hand and it won’t let go.

“Cast it into the depths of hell!,” he yells at me.

“It won’t let go!” I’m standin’ by the water now and it’s just danglin’ there from my hand. My fuckin’ hand is bein’ ripped to shreds. “God-damn! Son of a bitch! It hurts!”

“Don’t blaspheme! If you blaspheme, the demon is winning!”

“What the fuck do I do?” I shriek! And, Brother Copeland disappears with his radiant smile. I stop and grab the demon with my other hand, and tuck it back up under my armpit like a football just to stop that terrible tearin’ feelin’. “What would Kenneth Copeland do?”

I feel the coolin’ light of heaven come down on me, and I know. I turn and stumble for that temple of chicken and waffles and holy sweet tea. Sweet tea, cold, cold, holy sweet tea will save this poor demon-ridden sinner and will cast this gator demon out and back into the marsh of hell!

One step, with my hand just ascreamin’, another with that hot bullet rain smackin’ on my head. God! I just want to lay down and give up. But it hurts so much! What would Brother Copeland think of me? I just keep failin’ and failin’ and failin’. Another step, my blood just drippin’ on the ground from my hand and face. I look up. Am I any closer?

The door swings open. A couple holdin’ hands run out into the rain and across the parkin’ lot. They’re just laughin’. They don’t even see me. Am I even fuckin’ here? Another step, then I stumble five more. The door opens in front of me and a blast of cool air welcomes me into the sacred Waffle House. It’s such a shock that I almost let go of the gator. I look at him – his eyes don’t look demony right now, they look regular, but I know he’s just pretendin’ – demons take guises.

I walk up to the bar. I slap the demon and my hand on the top. Nothin’ hurts right now – I’ve got the power in me. Except for the music, everythin’ gets real quiet. So quiet I can hear my breathin’, the blood and water drippin’. The sand on my shoes is grittin’ into the linoleum as I shift tryin’ not to fall down. I look up and everyone is starin’ at me. No one is movin’, no one is gettin’ the holy sweet tea!

“I need sweet tea! Gallons of sweet tea!” I yell! “Cold, cold, Holy sweet tea!”

No one moves.

“Get it now!” They must have seen my power, God’s power wellin’ up in me, cause the waitresses run into the back. Some people run past me out the door. A waitress asks if she can help with the gator. I shake my head – I can see two jugs of tea comin’.

“Make more than two – I need gallons! This is a powerful demon! He may look little, but he be real powerful!” I look around again. People are takin’ pictures – I can hear them talkin’. “Be quiet! I’m goin’ to cast this demon out!” I’m wavin’ my hand and I catch sight of my reflection in the window. I can barely see me, but I can see Brother Copeland smilin’ that wide toothy smile, encouragin’ me on.

First one, then the other jug of cold as ice, heavenly holy sweet tea smacks the bar next to me. I stare at them. What are the words? Christ! I can’t remember the words! “Begone!” yeah, that’s right.

I shout, “Begone, you foul demon!” The gator just looks at me. I look up and everyone is lookin’ at me, like I’m supposed to be doin’ somethin’.

“Begone demon!” I shriek at him and grab a jug of cold as cold, holy sweet tea and pour it on his head. He jumps backwards, tryin’ to take my hand with him. “Fuckin’ demon! Begone! Back to hell with you!” I splash more tea on his head. Nothin’ happens! Then it dawns on me! “More tea, more tea!” I’m the problem! There’s a demon in me, too.

I stand right up next to the bar and lean over him. “Out you fuckin’ demon! Out of me, out of this fuckin’ gator! Oh my lord, please help this demon-possessed sinner!” And I upend the tea over my own head, over his head. And I grab another and keep pourin’ and pourin’. And I hear myself screamin’ please, please, please…

Suddenly, the fuckin’ gator lets go. The demon leaps screamin’ and on fire from that poor gator’s mouth. He leaps at me and -snap- disappears in the air – just fuckin’ disappears! The gator hisses and thrashes and I knock him to the floor. He backs to the wall and freezes. My legs give out and I’m on the floor, starin’ into his beady non-demony eyes.

I did it.

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“Mike! Mike! Wake up!”

I open my eyes and the fuckin’ gator is gone. There’s lights flashin’ everywhere. Red and blue, and it’s so bright in here. I can hear walky-talkies cracklin’. I look up and there’s a lady talkin’ to me, tellin’ me to roll over, so I do. Hands roll me onto a bed and strap me down. Then there’s a blanket. They lift me up and start to roll me out the door. “Wait! I didn’t get no sweet tea!” But they cain’t hear me or they just don't care.

As they start to push me into the ambulance, I catch sight of that dumpster and that marsh – demon eyes, must be twenty or forty or maybe hundreds of them. Brother Copeland and I still have much work to do.