From: joshua@dmccorp.com (Joshua Lellis)
Subject: Love and Devotion
Date: 26 Sep 1995 03:20:09 GMT

Preface. Please Read.

The following text has references to a possible not too distance future.  
It is not meant to offend, only to warn. This could, very possibly, be 
the future we inherit.
If you do not like this piece or the content or topic it is about, please 
do not become angry towards my provider, I am speaking my own ramblings 
and not their ramblings. Any comments or critiques you have should be 
sent to me at:

joshua@client.dmccorp.com

I am sorry if you become angry at any part of this. a few points:
1) I am a Catholic,
2) this is not meant to glorify anything violent,
3) this is *A WORK OF FICTION* and should not be taken at face value as 
token Bible truth. This is only the work of an *OVERACTIVE* mind and you 
will probably never see another story like this, from me. 
Let the author apologize once more, and now, without further adieu:

------------------------
Love and Devotion
by Joshua Lellis
copyright 1995 Joshua Lellis

"I'm a little tired of the up and down of the common race." 
                - prick

   I was lookout, that night. The family we'd picked was a nice Catholic 
one, judging from the Crucifix that was hanging on the wall. There was a 
nice standard edition Bible, black outer covering, with fake gold 
lettering. 
   "Holy Bible," George had read. Then, flinging it at the mother, 
"Where's your god now?" Then he'd hit her with the butt of his rifle, 
twice. 
   I was surprised at that one. I would've thought that he wouldn't have 
done that, I mean, so early on in the raid. Usually you just take down 
all the males and do the double choice on them. Double choice. Not much 
of a choice, really. The males get fucked either way. 1) You fired once 
into the man's face. 2) You tied them up and let them watch the rest of 
the raid. 
   On this particular night, Hobbes had felt rather flagrant and rude. 
We'd chosen to tie them up. It was rather fitting that they'd have to 
watch. We gagged them, of course, so that they couldn't say anything. 
   Then there were the women in this family. There was, of course, the 
mother. George had taken care of her with the butt of his rifle. I don't 
think she was breathing. Fuck, man, killed a woman that early in the 
raid. No. Couldn't feel sad for them. They got what they deserved (but 
we'll get to that point in due time.)
   There was a fiery eighteen year old, startlingly beautiful with long, 
gorgeous red hair. I was surprised that this house hadn't already been 
raided when I saw her. I would've thought this would've been the first 
place they'd raid. 
   "Are you a model?" asked Hobbes.
   She shrugged.
   "Don't you understand the fucking question?" asked George. "Or can you 
just not get any sense into those Catholic ears of yours, red-head?"
   "Maybe we should knock some sense into her." suggested Hobbes. They 
were going to, of course. And as I was standing look out, they did (but 
we'll get to that in a bit too.)
   The last female in the family was a young girl of about twelve years. 
She had brown hair, baby blue eyes, and looked rather athletic. So 
commented Hobbes, "You want to follow in your sister's footsteps, don't 
you, little bitch?"
   I don't really enjoy that part of the raid when they "knock some 
sense" into the girls. I've found it sickening. Nonetheless, I played 
with a knife on Catholic man's arm, waving it before his duct-taped mouth 
and enjoying him squirm. That was the part I loved about these raids.
   Hobbes and George had seperated into two rooms, with a girl in each 
arm. I didn't really like thinking about what they do in there. I got 
offered the chance once, when Hobbes was feeling woozy one night. He 
threw me in the room with a seven year old, who was crying the entire 
time we were in there.
   "Shut up." I told her, standing four feet away.
   She continued to cry.
   "Shut up, dammit." I said again, three feet.
   She didn't cease. 
   "Shut the fuck up, bitch!" I screamed, slapping her and knocking her 
against the wall. Her blonde hair flew over her head and I could hear her 
neck crack as it hit. That wasn't it though. I wasn't done. 
   I pulled her up by the hair and I began to spit and punch her. Spit in 
her face, punch it in. She wasn't worth anything. That's what I'd been, 
told, at least, being raised in a society that told me to do this. (Fuck, 
they practically taught it in school).
   And while, what we were doing *was* illegal, nobody seemed to stop us. 
Martial law was martial law. Hey, if you had the guns, you had the power. 
We had the guns. 
   This was our ethnic cleansing. At least, that's what Hobbes told me. 
He'd been raised with the same values, to not trust Catholics. When 
society collapsed and lapsed into this "world" that we have before us, it 
was every man for himself. Religion was practically gone from this world. 
(Wasn't it the Pope who was the first man in Las Vegas, losing the 
Church's money?)
   So I stood lookout that night and I looked out over this world and 
watched everything. Hobbes and George came out about twenty minutes later 
(the girls weren't with them) and decided that they'd kill the males and 
the mother now. 
   We lined them up against the wall, standing, and fired into them. And 
through them. And past them. It was bloody, true, and we decided that 
each man had thirty minutes in the bath before we'd move on to dinner and 
the next raid. 
   God, I love this job.
   God, I love my future. 



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             joshua@client.dmccorp.com
joshua        lellis -- jacob        latter -- stauf