Campfyre Stories

So there I was, minding my own business, shutting out the rest of the world, trying to get to my tattoo appointment.  There was this punkish/emoish kid sitting next to me and a mother and child in front of me.  A cyclist got on the bus and, you know, he *looked* like a normal guy, but it turned out he was a zealot.

He was handing out pamphlets to people who would make eye contact and trying to give them something that was fitting to each person.  To the mom he gave a pamphlet titled, "What Is A Mother?"  To the guy next to me it was one that said "I’ll Do It Tomorrow".

After the punkmo guy finished reading the pamphlet, the zealot started talking to him about finding God and coming (back?) into the fold.  He handed him a business card with a URL (CallHim) and tried to keep talking.  I thought the kid was receptive to the guy and turned my music up.

The punkmo kid put the card and the pamphlet very deliberately into his backpack and pulled out an old, gilt-edged book.  Being nosy and meddlesome, I tried to get a look at what he was reading, but all I could see was a chapter title of "HELL" and what looked like verses inside.  I figured that this was some kind of relligious book and that the zealot had somehow convinced the kid to pray or something.

He kept reading until the zealot got off the bus, at which point he pulled his backpack out and closed his book.  It was at this point that I was able to see the title, which caused me to "HA!" (and, unless you’ve actually witnessed it, you really don’t know just how loud that particular exclamation is coming from me, especially when it’s completely unexpected.)

He gave me a huge grin and a slight wink as he put away Dante’s The Inferno.