What I Saw Upstairs
My first run-in with Christianity came in the summer my sister and I stayed with our babysitter’s family during the daytime while our parents worked, when I was eight and Lynn was six. We both despised that family because of all the naps they forced us to take. Mom never understood how bad it was. I’d complain, “Mommy, they make us sleep too much,” and she’d laugh because she had absolutely no idea that it was along the lines of EIGHT OR NINE HOURS OF NAPS. DURING THE DAY. DAMN THEM. THOSE ABUSIVE, LAZY PIECES OF YOU KNOW WHAT.
Even worse, and more relevant to the point of this story, was the fact that this was a family of religious fanatics. At that age, I knew nothing about Christianity. I just knew that there were crucifixes on every wall of every room of their house, only I called them swords, and I really really wanted to pull one of those swords off of the walls so I could do battle with pirates. Yes, who would have thought that the isolation of lying under the covers during entire workdays would make me create imaginary pirate friends?
One afternoon when the babysitter and her family thought Lynn and I were sound asleep, they went to catch a matinee at the local theater. Those abusive, lazy pieces of you know what, they just left us home alone like that. Of course, I didn’t care. I watched their car pull out of the driveway, ran back to the couch that my sister was sleeping on, pulled off her covers, and yelled, “YO IT’S PARTY TIME.”
The first order of business in our afternoon of unsupervised mischief was to explore the house upstairs. Lynn and I had pretty much only been downstairs in the living room and kitchen, and the one time I asked if I could look around upstairs, they threatened to increase my daily nap times by 30%.
But of course, telling a child not to do something only fuels their need to be even crazier motherfuckers. After ordering my sister to stay put, I skulked up the stairs, grinning and rubbing my hands together, fully intending to jump on their beds and perhaps look for a stool that would assist me in taking down one of their swords for my fight with the pirates.
And I’ll never forget what was there when I cracked open one of their bedroom doors.
Covering an entire eight-foot high wall was a gigantic mural of the face of Jesus Christ wearing the Crown of Thorns, with bright red blood dripping down every corner of his face, his bloody eyes looking upwards, his bloody mouth agape in exhausting pain. It looked like this, only bloodier.
I screamed, slammed the door, then ran downstairs.
“LYNN!” I shrieked, shaking her shoulders. “LYNN. I WANT YOU TO ALWAYS LISTEN TO ME, OKAY?”
“Whyth?”
I started hyperventilating. “LYNN, SHUT UP, JUST ALWAYS LISTEN TO ME. YOU CAN’T TRUST ANYONE IN THIS WORLD BUT ME, OKAY? IT’S JUST YOU AND ME, LYNN. THE ONLY PERSON YOU LISTEN TO IS ME.”
“Okayth.”
“OKAY, SO LYNN, I WANT YOU TO PROMISE NEVER TO GO UPSTAIRS. DO NOT GO UPSTAIRS. PROMISE ME, LYNN.”
“Whyth?”
One by one, I pointed to each sword/crucifix on each wall of the living room and replied, “BECAUSE THEY’RE FREAKS! LYNN! THESE PEOPLE ARE FREAKS! THEY’RE CRAZY! YOU DO NOT WANT TO KNOW WHAT'S UPSTAIRS.”
“Don't yellth ath me anymoreth. I'm getting thscared...”
“I THINK THEY’RE GONNA KILL US. DO YOU KNOW WHY THEY MAKE US TAKE NAPS ALL THE TIME, LYNN? THEY’RE BIDING THEIR TIME. OBSERVING US. SHARPENING THEIR KNIVES AND WAITING FOR THE RIGHT MOMENT TO PUT THORNY HATS ON OUR HEADS SO WE CAN DIE LIKE THE OTHERS AND BECOME A PART OF THEIR COLLECTION. YOU CAN’T TRUST THEM, LYNN. ONLY ME.”
Lynn started sobbing. I started sobbing too. “PROMISE ME, LYNN. DON'T GO UPSTAIRS.”
“I promiseth.”
We slid open the back patio door and it was so bright outside and we ran as fast as our legs allowed, never once looking behind us, until finally reaching the new and improved freeway. The cars were so loud and so big and from the edge of road we jumped and waved our hands in the air, screaming for help, waiting for someone to say, “It’s over,” to drape a blanket over our shaking shoulders as sirens bounced off of our bloodied faces and say, “It’s over, buddy. Don’t worry. It’s all over.” But help wasn’t there and soon Lynn was drifting too far out onto the road and a frantically honking semi swerved, its wheels shaking the ground as the cargo trailer marked OVERWEIGHT LOAD whipped madly towards her direction. My eyes widened and I fell to my knees and clutched my head with both hands and screamed “Oh please God no” while Lynn just stood there, staring at me, not knowing what to do, not knowing that years later I would exaggerate this story on the Internet.