"There's more, if this isn't too boring for you", Aaron says. He was intermediately colouring for a while, but has completely left off his art in order to talk about his life and past. The bird drawing now rests over his knee like an incredibly coloured sleeping cat.
"Do continue", says Carl, "We still have around forty minutes, and we aren't exactly busy right now, are we?"
"Okay. First of all, I believe there was a sense of divine purpose to all this. When I got off the bus downtown that night, I got quite lost trying to find the Fountain Chapel, and walked over the Cambie Bridge instead of the Georgia Viaduct, finding my way to the house where the Jesus's People all lived. There was no one home of course, so I sat in a chair on the verandah. One of them came home to pick up some buns, a French Canadian named Michel, and he drove me with him to the church. So, it was foreordained. After the service, the Cockney Jesus and another fellow drove me home to Richmond.
It was already 1:30 am, Mom was away overnight working at a banquet with her boyfriend, so I invited them into the split level house we lived in in a subdivision. Then my big brother, Rick, came in with a friend of his. It didn't go very well. They were both rude, mocking and sarcastic towards my two friends, both of whom were older and considerably more life experienced, but to them they were just a couple of dumb Jesus' freaks who had brainwashed Rick's darling little brother, namely, me. They were admirably good natured and kind to both those undeserving twits. After they left, my brother seemed to be struggling with his own encroaching epiphany experience. He simply said that there was now a strong, sweet fragrance of flowers in the house. I didn't smell anything, I believe that that was how the Holy Spirit was making himself present for my brother, who just rejected it all anyway. So sad..."
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