Vernon Gets His Wish

The glorious day was coming,

and when it did,

it would not find Vernon unprepared.

He would lead his new family,

tin-halo'd head held high,

and the flames would lap at them harmlessly,

their rapture shaking the earth.

Can you see their shining faces?

Their cheeks glisten

with tears of pure faith,

and Lord help the man, woman or child

with no armour of belief

in their bold stride.

(Of course, Vernon wasn't his real name;

snake-like,

he'd shed the skin of his past

to be fresh and reborn,

to lead his new family

into the light.)

But nothing is ever that simple,

is it?

There always those ready 

to pervert the course of the righteous.

Clad in silken robes

or Armani suits,

their job remains the same;

wielding blades or wielding bureaucracy,

to stand in the way of the angels.

But Vernon would be ready.

He would do as the angels had done

when Lucifer's pride threatened to topple

the One True Throne.

He would build an army, 

and hold them close.

This would be his family.

Scriptures would be read.

Assault rifles stockpiled.

New soldiers fathered.

Man-sized paper targets shredded.

In this commune

rich in faith and firepower

and alive with brotherly love.

Listen.

You must remember.

The family's love for Vernon was real,

as real as their belief in him

as the one to lead them to glory.

And when Vernon's day dawned,

he was ready.

His soldiers, his brothers,

at his side.

And they came.

With tanks

and guns 

and sniper rifles

and snazzy matching jackets

and their own misguided convictions,

and they launched pillars of flame 

through shattered windows 

to the tune of screaming children.

And with the conviction that

God was guiding his hand,

Vernon stepped into the light,

and most of his family followed.

Charisma can be a terrible thing.