It was a smart move. It was not my job to erase hate with a bullet… even though it would have felt good. Two heinous wrongs would not make a right.
"Jesus Hesus Christ," I shouted and fell to my knees, much to the shock of the idiots around me.
"What did you say?" a large, red-faced, angry woman screeched.
"I just said Jesus' full name," I told her as I rose to my feet.
"His middle name is Hesus?" she demanded doubtfully.
"Um… yes. Yes, it is," I said without cracking a smile.
Hank stood stoically behind me, lending his silent support. His muffled laughter appeared to be a coughing fit to the throng around us.
"His middle name rhymes with his first name?" the woman queried still doubtful.
"Yes, it does," I told her.
"How did you learn this?" she demanded suspiciously. "Was it the gays or the Buddhists?"
"Nope, it was the IRS," I replied with barely contained ire. "And the American Civil Liberties Union."
"Well, your sources certainly sound official," she said with pursed lips and her hands on her hips.
"They are," I told her. "It was certified and proven true by the LGBT division of the Civil Liberties Union."
"Really?" she asked, impressed as a horde of idiots began to surround her. "Hey, I have learned the middle name of Jesus," she called out to the dummies.
It saddened me to realize none of them had a clue about what the Civil Liberties Union was or the fact I'd just told them the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender division had certified that Jesus indeed had a middle name which rhymed with his first. It was all kinds of appalling.
There was no time for me to straighten these people out, but making them look more like assjackets than they already did could help others see how awful these people's beliefs were.
"Can we guess?" a tiny little dude with a mullet and skinny jeans asked.
"Of course," the woman sneered condescendingly.
The names flew fast and furious. It was all I could do not to laugh. Why did these people have so much hate in them for others who were different? They would definitely lead the front line in trying to destroy Werewolves if we were to come out of the closet. I would represent an abomination from hell. Was it lack of education? Was it simply fear and stupidity?
"Jim Bob," a man guessed.
"Skooter," another yelled.
"Homer."
"Moses."
"Kevin."
"Herman."
"Kyle."
"Billy."
"Bubba."
"Nope!" the red-faced angry gal shouted above the excited voices of the dumbass crowd. "It's Hesus. Rhymes with Jesus!"
"Jesus Hesus Christ," an older pinched-faced lady said with bravado. "I already knew this. Everyone who is a true believer knows his middle name is Hesus."
"I knew it," several shouted.
"I knew it," the large gal snapped. "I was just testing the rest of you."
I bit down on the inside of my cheek and slunk away to the bathroom. I didn't need to hear any more. If it wasn't so sad it would have been funny.
"Did you just create the shit show out front?" a pale-faced but amused Dima asked as she walked out of the bathroom as I was walking in.
"Yes. Yes, I did. Did you just puke?"
"Yes, I did." She shook her head and sighed. "I will never eat paper again."
"What about people?" I asked, wondering if she wanted to rid the world of some intolerant hatemongers.
"Too chewy. I like tacos better," she said with a grin. "However, I do know a few Dragons who like to eat bigots and homophobes."
"This is good to know," I said as I did my business. After I washed my hands I gently pushed her back out to the Hummer. "We won't be needing social media in our quest to let the world know Jesus' middle name."
"Nope," Dima agreed. "These assholes will take care of it within the hour."
"Do you think Jesus is going to be mad at me?" I asked as I contemplated what I had just done.
Dima thoughtfully pondered my question. "No. No, I don't think he would be mad at you. I firmly believe he has a great sense of humor. He'd have to if he let imbeciles like those wankers be created," she said, referring to the churchgoers. "I'd like to believe he's more unhappy with what those horrible people preach than the fact we gave him a middle name."
"I didn't want to like you, Dima," I said honestly.
"But you do," she said with a smirk. "And I like you even though I wanted to hate your lupine guts."
"I suppose we're no better than the dummies we just duped."
"I don't know," she said quietly. "The simple fact we're capable of seeing we were wrong and changing goes a long way to our credit."
"I'm wrong about a lot of things," I muttered as I glanced over at the dorks trying to prove they had known all along Jesus's middle name was Hesus. "I couldn't have been more wrong about the Cows."
"The ones who pooped my paper out?" Dima asked.
"Nope. The sexually ambiguous ones with the awful haircuts and hearts bigger than anyone I've ever met who are feeding my granny," I stated, then slapped my hand over my mouth.
"Guessing that was a secret two seconds ago," Dima said with a grin.