A prayer meeting led Bryan to pray, so he prayed for cash, the single important thing that afternoon. “Man-made goals should be scorned,” the pastor declared. Maybe, but Bryan had practiced atheism since kindergarten, and saw no real need to stop now. Chomping his chewing gum, Bryan desired pornography.
On the Stairmaster, he thought of potentially doing anything. Another day spent running and at the prayer meeting – it never got old, but Bryan desired more. “Must be a diversion somewhere,” Brian surmised. “Who knows?” The pastor had angered him, referring to the rapture, suggesting that a boring afternoon was the least of Brian’s fears. Less incompetent ministers wouldn't have forgotten their lunches at home.
At lunch, eating out of a can filled with reese’s pieces, Brian overheard a crooning runner. Or, that is to say that a woman ran past him, singing. Bryan wished it was a mating ritual. On shows about the animal kingdom the males quietly rape the girls, so he leapt into action, scurrying behind the young female. He was in love. In pursuit. “Perhaps that goddamn minister won this one,” he sang, following the songstress, breathless. God didn’t know it then, but Bryan was destined to marry this girl.