I once walked in on a bunch of my classmates during my Jr year of high school talking about the Anti-Christ. So I got all excited, and joined in on the conversation. You know, because it's the Anti-Christ, and that rocks. But I noticed that they were all nervous and stuff, and a couple of them found a quick excuse to leave.
So I cornered one of them, got in his face, and got to the bottom of it. Turns out that "Anti-Christ" was the new nickname they'd given me. I laughed so hard, I ended up rolling around on the floor. I think it creeped them out even further that I was amuzed and honored to have been given such a dignified nickname...
Later, I found out why they'd given me the nickname.
See, it all started in church one day... My crazy 1/2 white Mexican-Spanish drug addict Mormon Grandma FORCED me to go to church with her. I wasn't Mormon. I'd sworn off organized religion altogether, and had decided that Christianity in all its guises was evil. So I was especially PISSED, but there was nothing I could do to prevent it. So I showed up wearing all black, and a black trenchcoat. I shaved my teenaged stubble into a passable goatee, and I wore my long hair in a ponytail. And I sat in the back of the Mormon church FUMING about being forced to go there. I could literally feel my skin crawling as the evil of the place tried to permeate through the pores of my body.
As I sat there on a warm bright Spring day, it started getting dark. Then the lights started flickering. Then we heard the wind pick up out of nowhere. The Santa Ana's had kicked in out of nowhere (S. Cali's famous for the Santa Ana winds). Just before the service was over, there was an mild earthquake.
When we walked outside, it was blowing at about 50 MPH, and had completely clouded over with pitch black clouds. There was thunder and lightening off in the distance, but no rain. My grandma not only had a worried look on her face, but seemed to think that somehow the storm was my fault. But she was too fearful to actually accuse me of such. She just kept repeating, "I'm never taking you to church again," as if it were a mantra.
It turns out the kids at school, the ones I mentioned above, were all Mormon. Although I'd only seen two of them there, the whole gaggle had seen me. And they thought the same thing as my grandma. Everyone's opinions were simply cemented by the fact that after I got out of that church, that the weather went back to beautiful within an hour.
And that's the story about the last time anyone forced me into a church. No, I don't actually believe I'm the Anti-Christ. Yeah, I'm still sorta proud of the nickname.