I needed salvation and everyone knew it. Even Old Chester down at the Work Depot knew it. He would mop the floors every night before I closed up shop. Never saying a word, keeping his head down low as he mopped away. Deep down in his fucked up world I knew he knew it.
At midnight the chime bells tolled. It was my signal to slather myself once again with the lotion and dream of Shannon. I was lost in the dream world embrace as my mind drifted from Shannon then onto the Mountain tops of Patagonia, then to the shores of Gibraltar. I was about to reach my own peak when the door burst open... it was Old Chester. In his hands he held the Salvation Wreath, and on the tip of his tongue was the good news of bleeding hearts.
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