The Lord looks a little more sad on Mondays
By Greg Benevent

I look up at the cross hanging on the wall, Jesus looking down on 5H. I can't make out his facial expression from my desk, but I always think the Lord looks a little more sad on Mondays.

"What am I going to do, Lord? What am I going to do?" I wait for an answer - but none comes. Looking around the classroom, none of the other students are looking at me. They're all working. They don't notice me - "Or is that what they want you think?" I think to myself. "Did you ever wonder if they're in on it with the Monstros? That they're all against you. You only have one friend here, Luke."

"Please, Jesus. Show me the way," I ask.

"What are you talkin' to Jesus for? We haveta work," Lisa growls, her stupid fat face glaring through her stupid thick glasses.

"I'm asking him if you can get any fatter. Also, I wanted to know if the astronauts could see you from space."

Lisa's face turns nuclear-hot-wings red, and she starts crying. Mrs. Hemphill glares at me, and walks over. I shrug, and yawn, and try to think of a way to tell her that this wasn't my fault, and that the Monstros are after me.

It's all Mrs. Hemphill's fault the Monstros are going to get me in the first place. Last week she held me late from reading class because I "needed to stop telling girls they're inferior" or some stupidness. Being late, I ran through the halls to get to reading class, and a priest I'd never seen before stopped me. He told me if I "didn't stop being a bad boy soon, bad things would happen to me." He didn't elaborate. But, that night, I snuck an un-Christian comic book out of my brother's room, (he hid it with his weird pictures of naked girls). In the comic book, a man was killed by evil creatures called "Monstros."

Well, not being as stupid as some girl, I put two and two together: I'm a warrior for God, and the Monstros are coming to kill me.

Mrs. Hemphill's heels strike the tile as she walks towards me, I fight back a yawn.

Suddenly, a loud shrieking -

"Everyone, stand up, and form two lines at the front of the room -" Mrs. Hemphill waddles to the front of the room, "This is just a fire drill-"

"Saved again," I laugh at the still-crying Lisa Semmel. "Or are you?" Jesus looks down at me. The fire alarm keeps screaming - "What if this is a diversion, like in Spy Kids 2? What if this is the Montros way of getting everyone out of the school?"

"Mrs. Hemphill, they're coming to get me!"

"Please, everyone get in line!" she pouts - she doesn't even look at me. "No one can save you now."

"Oh yes, someone can." I say out loud and smile, fingering the cross around my neck. I push my desk out of the way - Lisa yells at it falls in front of her - I jump over a chair in front of me, and I'm out the door - suddenly, I'm staring at the floor and I can't move.

"Where are you going?" Mrs. Hemphill's pink fingernails dig into my shoulder, ripping my school uniform blazer. "She is with the Monstros." I realize, and shudder.

"I'm getting my weapon! You'll see! I'm getting Jesus!" I scream and push her off of me - I slam the door and run down the hall -

The floor is cold and slippery. Lockers line the walls. The alarm is so loud, it's pounding in my head, spinning around. My locker's just around the corner - "What if the Monstros are there already? Before you get your weapon? Before you talk to Jesus?"

No time to think about that - I run around the corner, almost falling over. Students from all the grades pour out of the front doors, about a hundred feet from me. "That leaves the school empty. Just you and the Monstros."

I open my locker - and unzip my backpack, grabbing the weapon.

"I'm coming to ask for your help, Lord," I say out loud, and run down the hall. Kids' art class pictures hang on the walls, none of mine ever made it, and a whole bunch of Lisa Semmel's did, which shows you what good art is. There's a big poster on an easel for the "Christian Cookie Sale," where I was kick ass for God. I sold eighty boxes myself, making me eleventh best in the whole school. A glittery sign proclaims the five thousand dollars the school raised, we just had a big assembly for it this morning - I run towards the office.

Bob Mackall's standing out front, holding a crowbar. He's one of the bad kids in the school, I know he's been kicked out of the 10 th grade at least once.

"Kid, what are you doing here?" he yells as I run past him - he reaches for me, but I just run from him.

"Gotta talk to Jesus, they're after me!" I yell as I run into the principal's office.

The secretary is gone. There's no one else in the outer office. I can see Father Collins through the inner door's window - he's against the wall, and sweating.

"Hello.?" I ask quietly, my fingers tight around the weapon-metal-stick. A soft sound - crying. I jump and look over the edge of the desk - the secretary, Sister Francine, is curled in a ball, crying against the wall. I want to hug her, and ask her what's wrong-but I don't have time to talk if I'm going to save us all. There's voices somewhere in the room -

"I'm not going to give you the money!!"

Whipping my head around, I run down the hall and shove open the door that says, "FATHER COLLINS, PRINCIPAL."

He's rigid against the wall, his white collar sweat-stained. He's an older guy, a little bald, but he's got the warmest, kindest eyes - he has these big glasses, and whenever he talks, if it's doing mass or just talking to you in person, he makes you feel warm.

But he looks so scared now - his skin's a little white, and he's shaking his head at me. A giant, four-foot wooden cross hangs behind his desk, above a potted plant, and a bunch of degrees and pictures hang in frames on the walls. I can feel Jesus looking at me, filling me with his love, telling me to be strong.

"Listen Father, just listen," I point at him, catching my breath, "There are monsters, called 'Monstros,' I don't know where they are, but they might be in my closet-"

"Luke. Rogers?" Father Collins mutters, I guess trying to remember me.

"Yes. I'm in 5 th grade, I was 11 th best in the cookie sale," I have to jog his memory - there's no time for this.

"Yes. yes," his eyes keep darting to his left.

"Just, listen - these monsters, they're deadly, and they're following me. I've seen a green light that shows they're coming. You need to help me find these things - I have reason to believe they may have pulled the fire alarm-"

"Mr. Rogers, please leave. You can't . you have to go . "

My mouth goes dry - "Please, Father, no one else will help me. I'm going to die if I go home. You need to tell God about my problem, and get him to do something-"

"Luke . go. You have to get out of here. The Lord helps those who help themselves, I'm sure it'll be okay -"

"I can't go anywhere!" I yell at him, much louder than I meant to. "They'll FIND ME! I'm going to die! Listen," I fall to my knees in front of the cross. "Pray with me, father. Talk to God. I don't know what I'm going to do," My eyes tear up, he puts his hand on my shoulder, it's shaking -

"Luke . there's a fire drill. You have to go -"

"Just tell Lord Jesus and the Holy Spirit I'm too young to die!" I plead, clutching at his cloak. "At least find me a plane ticket or something! I can't go home! I can't fight them! All I've gots this stupid weapon-"

"Show me the weapon," a low, deep voice behind me. I turn -

Hiding behind the door is a big 10 th grader, Mark Garrison, but everyone just calls him Magar. He was kicked out of school a few weeks ago, why was here now? Weirdly, he's wearing a button-up white shirt with some strange stains on it. He has a gun in his right hand. His hand is shaking. It hits me.

"Oh Lord Jesus, thank you for this day!" I pray to myself, "They're hiding from the Monstros, too!"

Slowly, I stand up.

"You guys hid from them, good." I nod at Mark, "Good thinking. I don't know if that gun's going to hurt them, but it's a start."

"What the hell are you talking about?" He growls.

"Luke, you have to leave," Father Collins squeezes my shoulder. "Now."

I pull away from him - "No no no, I'm safer with you guys! Listen, between the three of us, we hole up in here, we may have a shot." I slam the door behind me, Magar jumps. I turn and point solemnly to him, "You see some green light come under that door, start firing." I shake my head, "By then, it'll probably already be too late."

"Kid, get out of here now so I don't shoot you-" Magar turns the gun at me. The barrel is an unblinking black eye.

"You wouldn't dare. You aren't a bad person, Magar. Stop this, please. Now-" stammers Father Collins.

"You don't understand big guy!" I smile at Magar - "I'm not one of the Monstros! I'm one of the good guys! You don't have to be paranoid, we can stop this together-"

He moves his finger on the gun. It makes a "click."

"Get out," he says.

"Magar, there's still hope for you. You don't have to do this. We can walk out of here right now. Please, Magar . let us both go." Father Collins eyes look skittish, and his collar's dark with sweat.

I frown. This isn't going as I'd hoped. Jesus looks down on me, and he doesn't look happy - he looks as annoyed as I feel.

"Lord," I pray in my mind, "I know I'm not supposed to bargain with you. I know I can't, because I'm me and you're you, but . if there was anything I could do to save myself from the Monstros, any kind of opportunity to do something great in your name - I'll do it. I'll do it, Lord."

Looking up, I can imagine the look on Jesus's face conveys a simple message: "Do what you have to. I mean that."

"All right guys, no more bullcrap," I bite my lip and glare, making my voice as low as I can make it, "sorry Father," I add. "You're both going to help me, RIGHT NOW-"

Suddenly, I pull the weapon out of my backpack, and point it at them.

"I didn't want to have to do this," I whisper.

Magar rolls his deep brown eyes, "Kid, get out of here."

"Just because I'm a kid doesn't mean I'm afraid to use this." I point it right at him, "I'll get you right between the eyes."

Magar smiles, his teeth rotten lemon yellow: "That's a tire iron."

I bite my lip. I don't know what that means. I open my mouth, and hope for the best:

"Yeah, I know. And it's loaded. No sudden moves."

Suddenly, he laughs. Father Collins licks his lips, and smiles at me.

"What's going on?" I ask. I feel a little dizzy.

Magar laughs really loudly, the gun now pointed at Father Collins.

"Hey! What's going on? What's so funny?"

Father Collins stops smiling, and glares right at Magar. Magar wipes tears from his face, and leans against the wall.

"Yes, Mark," Father Collins says, his voice different, instead of warm, it's icy. "Tell him what's going on."

Magar sneers at him, lips curled around his teeth.

"Tell him what you're doing here. Why you're pointing a gun at me? You could tell it to me. Can you tell a little boy? It'll be good practice for when you give account of yourself to God."

Magar blinks. It's weird - he looks a little smaller, somehow.

"There's still time, Magar! Give me the gun. Don't do this. Pray with me. We'll pray for your father. I'll help find him another job-"

"Shut up old man -"

"You don't have to do this!" Father Collins screams, an ugly sound. The fire alarm stops.

"Give me the money," Magar growls, flat and mean.

"He's robbing me," Father Collins leans down to me, some of his warmth back in his voice and eyes. "He's holding me at gun point, because he wants the money from the cookie sale."

"What?" I blurt out, blinking in confusion. "I sold eighty boxes," I say to no one in particular. I point the tire iron back at Magar: " Eighty !" I shake the iron for emphasis.

"Good job, kid. Leave."

I'm no safer here from the Monstros. I might even be in more danger. I put my hand on the door - and I see the reflection of Jesus's face in the door window.

"Could this be what I just asked the Lord for? A chance to prove to Him that I deserve saving from the Monstros?"

I let go of the the doorknob. I can't leave Father Collins.

"Pray with me, Mark. We'll ask God for forgiveness, and I'll get you a deal-"

"Fuck you you old shit!" Magar screams, his high-pitched shrieking hurts my ears. "There's no fucking God and there's no fucking deal so give me the fucking money!" He jabs the end of the gun into Father Collins' bald head, hard.

Father Collins doesn't move, he doesn't yell, he just looks straight at Magar and shakes his head: "Mark. Oh Mark."

"The money, now."

While they talk, I look around the room - "There's gotta be something you can do, someway to screw Magar's plan in the name of the Lord. Something-"

I find it!

The shadow from the giant cross hanging on the front wall of the school cuts a shadow through the window - that points right at what I was looking for.

"Thank you Lord, for showing me the way." I pray, and move slowly to the other side of the room, light steps, I stop breathing. Inch . by inch.

"You were an altar boy, Mark. What happened?"

"I said to SHUT UP!!" Magar screams, that awful girl-like voice. I'm not even looking at them, afraid if they see my eyes they'll notice the rest of my body. Slowly . I duck behind the desk . so there's no chance of seeing me.

"Please, Lord . make me silent ."

"You tell my Dad there's a God!" Magar's yelling.

CRUNCH - I look down in horror - I stepped on a candy cross, it broke under my foot. Looking up . neither of them notice me-

"We need this money! I'm sorry, I'm sorry Father, but ." that "click" sound again . "God wouldn't let this happen." I'm almost down to the floor, a little further, and I can do something good here.

"Mark, please."

"The money, now! We're done-"

I reach my hands around it, and I can feel the Lord going through me.

"You're darn right we're done," I smile triumphantly and stand up. "This is for the Lord our God-"

And I throw the votive candle at him.

SMASH - it hits the wall, and falls to the ground, between Magar and Father Collins. Quickly, I run to the door -

"You were better with the tire iron," Magar says, and pulls me back into the room by my hair - I yell and scream and cry. Father Collins yells something at him, but I can't hear it, I'm too scared -

"This is it, right now," Magar yells, and there's something cold against my head - the black unblinking eye, the gun is on me - I'm shivering so much I'm going to throw up. I can't think. I can only cry and scream and-

"Give me the money or you can clean up the kid!" I can't see anything, they're all melting shapes in my tears, and I'm so cold I can't move -

"Jesus . please Jesus if you're out there, oh Jesus oh Jesus oh Jesus I LOVE YOU and if I have to meet you and come to your love I will but oh God oh shit please don't let me die -"

KNOCK - KNOCK at the door.

I shake my head to get rid of the tears, everything is still. Magar whispers to Father Collins: "Get rid of it."

"Yes?" Father Collins says, his voice trying to sound calm.

"Umm . there's a student with a weapon, we have to find him." A female voice says. Magar shakes his head "No" at Father Collins.

"Well . we'll look into that, Mrs. Hemphill," he says.

"No, this is serious, you don't understand. He terrorized a young girl, and then he threatened me with some kind of weapon -

The door opens - Mrs. Hemphill has her arm around Lisa Semmel, that fat piece of girl-trash.

In one moment, everything happens very fast.

Magar turns around - Mrs. Hemphill sees the gun, she screams. Lisa, either terrified or just really stupid, screams as well. Father Collins yells something, but I can't hear it -

Somehow, in this, I grab my tire iron.

"Hi- YAH !" I scream, and bring it down on Magar's hand, right in the knuckles - he yelps, and drops the gun. He dives for it - I hit him in the head with the tire iron. Again. Again. He falls over, I hit him in the front of his face. Again. I jump on him, and keep hitting him in the face - again - again - over and over -

"There! Is! A! God!" each word needs its own strike, its own commandment, a thunderbolt of love from the Lord: "And Don't For-Get It!"

Father Collins pushes me off of him, Magar's face fills with blood. I lay back against the wall, panting.

Mrs. Hemphill jaw hangs almost off of her face, and Lisa's crying again. Father Collins murmurs something, his eyes heavenward, cradling Magar's head in his lap. He places his cross on Magar's face - both of them are crying, too.

"Now are you gonna help me with the Monstros, huh?" I say to Father Collins, rolling my eyes. I lay backward, I feel really dizzy. In the light from outside the office, coming over the heads of Mrs. Hemphill and Lisa, they almost don't look repulsive.

"And you ." I try to point at Mrs. Hemphill, "I want an A on that science paper!" I squint and yell at Lisa, "And a new partner!"

I pass out.

I wake up in the nurse's office, she gives me some water, a Tylenol. For a few minutes, I don't remember why I'm there. But when she opens the blinds, and I see the reporters outside, I remember.

My parents come to get me, and there's a lot of kissing, and hugging, and "are you OKs?" I just shrug and say I'm all right. They don't understand.

"Lord, I hope I was enough of a servant for you to grant me a chance to escape the Monstros," and really, as I think about it, it hits me - that's all you can ever really ask God for - a chance.

The reporters are all around me as I walk outside yelling the same things: "Are you okay?" "What happened?" All of that. My parents try to push them away, but I raise my hand:

"I'll talk. It's what the Lord wants."

Several of the reporters smile.

I stand on top of a bench by the recess playground. The reporters surround me.

"Listen up, people. I wasn't the hero today." I look down at them, these adults who think they know. "Jesus was. He saved me. He wanted me to live, because there are evil monsters in my closet I have to kill, or escape from. And."

Suddenly, Father Collins is next to me, his hand around my shoulder.

"What young Mr. Rogers is saying is that life is not perfect, we don't all live as Jesus did, but we're trying, and sometimes, sometimes he smiles at us. People don't always do the right thing, sometimes they do the wrong thing, when they think they're doing the right thing. Sometimes people take what they think God is, what they think God owes them, and they do the wrong thing. God waits for everyone, he wants you to follow in his image, and live the best life you can. Among the many gifts he's given us, one of the best, and easily the most overlooked, is how he delivers us from fear. If we believe in him, we don't have to be afraid." Father Collins beams down at me, and I feel so warm inside, "The Lord showed me that today," he says.

Suddenly, a bunch of camera flashes go off, blinding me. I'm crying again -

"But Father, how am I going to escape the Monstros?" I ask him, he smiles at me:

"What?"

"The priest in the hall," I tug on his cloak, "They're going to get me."

His smile is impossibly large: "You believed him?"

My mouth falls open, I can't move, I'm so confused: "I . but he's a child of God. He's a priest. "

"Son," he leans down, and his face is even with mine: "Thinking for yourself isn't the opposite of faith."

"What?" I stammer, as he turns me towards the reporters. I don't understand. Jesus loves me. I'm a good and bad boy. The Monstros are going to kill me, that priest practically said so. Why is faith such a mystery?

The flashbulbs go off again.

"You'll be fine," he whispers and rubs my back. One priest cancels out another, that's in the bible somewhere. I can't see, but I feel so warm and happy. I don't have to see the cross over the school to know that Jesus is smiling down at me.