Ok, so I have an anecdote to recount. But to make it more interesting, I'm pulling a Tarantino or a Dane Cook and I've given you the punchline first. Now let's travel back, back to the beginning of the story, so that you'll understand why I threw a bible at her.
I work in a bookstore. Books-A-Million. If you're fortunate enough to live in a location where B-A-M has not metastasized, basically it's the K-Mart of bookstores (cheap, ghetto and not at all fun) whereas Borders is the Target (overpriced but hip and trendy) and Barnes & Noble is the Wal-Mart (everywhere, literally everywhere). Not only do I work at Books-A-Million in a soul-leeching job as a part-time clerk, but I live in Georgia. Conservative "Middle Georgia". And today was Sunday, and I had to work today.
So I'm up at the store drinking a cup of coffee and straightening books when the "her" from the topic title came in. Weighing in at approximately 240 lbs, she was an impressive specimen of good, church-going, God-fearing woman. She had the prerequisite huge black hat and the gaudy faux pearls and the "dear god, what did they use for the stitching?" dress. And she wanted a bible.
"Welcome to Books-A-Million, can I help you find anything today?" I asked, smiling to belie my abject hatred of my current role in life.
"I need a bible. I want one that's in extra large print, with a leather binding, and it needs to be an NIV version. I want the words of Christ our Lord God In Heaven in red, and I want index tabs up the side of it to mark the books."
After trying for a moment to wrap my head around exactly what it was she wanted, I attempted to use our primitive computer system to see if we had any such bibles. As the infernal beast (the PC, not the woman) did its work, I attempted to engage my customer in polite conversation.
"Just coming in from church?" I asked.
"Oh yes, Reverend gave a WONDERFUL sermon on the evils of the sin of homosexuality."
"Oh. I see... Let's see if we have that bible for you."
I then escorted her to the section of the store where we keep the two-toned leather-bound modern translation bibles for the blind. As we're walking to the ridiculously oversized Christian section, she regales me with choice samples of her minister's sermon. I nod politely and grunt in the affirmative from time to time, trying desperately to drown out the cow by focusing on the bad classical music being piped in and played overhead.
I began searching the bible shelves for anything labelled "Extra Large Print" or "Gargantuan Print" or the like, still just vaguely listening to my customer. I think it was at this point that she realized I'd more or less tuned her out. She looked at me, then at my name badge.
"Jason, you aren't a homosexual are you?"
What was I to say? That's not the kind of thing that often comes up at work, and I didn't want to offend my customer (more on the grounds that, as much as I hate my job, I still need the income; the bitch had already offended me as it was).
"Ma'am, I really would rather not answer that question. I don't think that's the kind of thing to be discussed at work. Now here are a few bibles that I think might..."
She interrupted me by putting her giant, meaty hand on my shoulder. "Oh Jason, say you aren't a heathen homosexual. Do you not know what God has to say about faggotry? In the book of blah blah in the gospel of blah..."
"Ma'am, I really don't want to discuss this with you. My sexual orientation is my decision and my business, not yours. Yes, I'm gay. And that's not likely to change no matter what you say, so I would appreciate it if we could drop the issue now. I'd be happy to resume helping you find a bible, or if you aren't comfortable working with me I can get another associate."
Of course, she didn't hear a word I'd said after I'd admitted to being gay. "Oh God in Heaven, please bless this young man and save him from evil and temptation. Jason here is a good soul and he has lost the light of Your way, he longs to walk Your path and...."
Now she was praying for me. In the middle of the bookstore. Holding my shoulder and doing that ridiculous swaying thing that fat women tend to do when they pray.
"Ma'am!" I yelped as I pulled away from her. "I really don't appreciate that. My sexual orientation NOT your concern, and I don't give a damn what the bible has to say about it either. I am done here, if you need any more help you'll have to find another employee." I turned to walk off.
She grabbed my shoulder from behind as I was walking away and resumed praying. "Lord Jesus, sweet savior of souls, bless this young man and lead him back to..."
I whirled around, still clutching the bible I'd pulled off the shelf, the New International Version with the leather binding and the giant print. "THAT IS ENOUGH!" I shouted. "You can take your religious babbling nonsense and get out of this store right now!"
And then I threw a bible at her. Somehow, surely by the grace of her God, I managed to miss her girth and it hit the floor instead. She shrieked and went waddling down the aisle to the front door at a blistering, break-neck amble.
Somehow, I still have my crappy job. If it were a good job, I'm sure I'd be unemployed right now. But it's a job I hate, so of course not even hurling merchandise at customers can get me fired. Obviously, there is a god. And obviously, he does hate fags. =(