I hate goin’ to church. It’s not so much as I hate tha actual church procedure itself …not tha singin’ nor tha sittin’ down to listen to tha lecture nor tha gettin’ up to pray fo’ minutes on end nor even tha givin’ of money near tha end. It’s tha circumstances before it that I can't really stand. Every Sunday I git hell from paver makin’ me eat quick when I’ve barely sat & do thangs quick so we can go to church on time. Thursdays I git hell from both paver and maver. I especially loathe Thursdays when I hafta wake up @ 4:30 & go to tha earliest mass since I ain’t have no time fo’ it any otha time since I be workin’ tha rest of tha day. I sooo hate bein’ rush’d! I alwez ask’d paver why we can’t go @ 8pm on Wednesdays instead juz like bro do, but no! He juz want me to wake up @ tha crack of dawn every Thursday & show up lookin’ dead for work! From 4:30 til tha time I git in tha safety of tha church, maver & paver wud be havin’ an endless naggin’ contest between em two tryin’ to outdo each other in raisin’ their voices & givin’ more insults to me. As maver goes to tha afternoon church, paver wud do tha noble job of naggin’ enuf fo’ tha two of em tha moment we leave tha house & it ain’t less fun than he&maver goin’ at it together as paver is tha supreme cuss-spewin’ human & his voice is 5 times as loud & irritatin’ as maver. And I really really hate it tha way they’d git me so disoriented like an annoyin’ person shoutin’ “boo!” at yer face when yer tryin’ to concentrate so that I usually forgit sumthin ‘coz they be practically shovin’ me outta tha house & paver wud run outta tha house in a huff so that I hafta follow his big, long strides coz I ain’t carryin no tricycle coins wit me to git to church. And I hate hate hate leavin’ ma phone/hanky/diskette/earrings/compact and I hate hate hate hate lookin’ like tha wrath of God even more wit tha oldest shirt on ma back & a mismatchd skirt tha product of getting’ dress’d so quickly when there’s still no light & a dragon is breathin’ down yer neck. And I think to ma’self when I’m more grown-up & I git out of their house I won’t go to church at all. Coz I alwez come to church fumin’ mad, wishin’ ill thoughts to ma progenitors & ready to snap @ ma seatmates shud they gimme one funny look or smirk @ ma uncomb’d hair anyway. And I think is it really worth it goin’ to church if it does me more bad than gewd? And anotha thang I hate is when maver bullies me to give more to church. She’d really pick away @ ma conscience tha way she did before when we came to visit relatives & she made me feel really really bad til I buckled down & gave 500 to a relative while she only made bro give a hundred & fifty as if bro don’t git paid twice as much. And anyway, she’d tell me that aside from tha annual “meager” 4-digit figure I give to church [which shed say is sooo selfish of me] I shud give ma own alms 2x a week to church now & ain’t I ashamed coz bro does now. I say let’s talk again when I’m 25 [bro’s age]. I know that all tha naggin’ & hell I git from her & paver ‘bout church thangs affect ma relationship to tha Big Man. They make me lose tha enthusiasm I wud’ve otherwise had fo’ luvin’ God more freely & more wholeheartedly. How cud I when I alwez associate God ways like goin to church or givin’ alms to hell from maver & paver? Mebbe that’s why people hate religion. I mean why does it hafta be so difficult? I mean mebbe it’s not so difficult but really followin’ tha rules or realy bein’ into it like bein’ active or bein’ an officer or bendin yer back backwards to suck up to God is difficult. And to be a know-it-all self-important prissy person -which I’ll eventually be if I try to git active & try to score a ticket to heaven- duzen really sit well wit me. Does God love masochists? Why doesn’t He want us to do fun thangs like have sex before marriage or love sumone from anotha religion? Are we all goin’ to hell? Exactly how much can I git away wit and still go to heaven?