Why? It's Just . . .

*Note: This is a story I wrote in 2007, but I wanted to have it on here. So it isn't new at all.

They had gone to a buffet-style restaurant for lunch and, having had their fill of food, found themselves browsing the dessert isle for a sweet finale to their meal. Heather spooned some steaming apple cobbler into a plate, debating whether to use ice cream or frozen yogurt on top. Gregory, having caught sight of Heather's choice, rubbed his stomach exaggeratedly. "Wow, Heather, that looks f***ing delicious! I think I'll have some, too." Heather repressed a look of annoyance and smiled, instead. "It really is. You should try it." While Greg ambled off to get a bowl, Heather took a deep breath. Good ole' Greg. She had been trying to get him to become a Christian, but he hadn't shown any interest. He really was a decent kind of guy . . . he just liked to swear a little too much . . . and smoke . . . and drink . . . and he had something of a bad temper . . . but he was a nice kind of guy. In fact, Greg often came to hang out with Heather and her friends, just as they were today. They would talk, laugh, tell jokes, and he would swear away, completely comfortable with his vocabulary. Funny thing was, no one ever asked him to stop.

Heather finished laying the soft-serve ice cream on her dessert, turning just in time to see Greg walking back. He had a bowl in his hand and had his head turned sideways to look at the plates of Oreo cake. A worker holding an armful of fruits hurried in front of him, causing him to stumble and nearly spill the contents of his bowl. He turned an enraged face on the embarrassed girl and yelled, "Jesus f***ing Christ! What is wrong with you?!" As she shrank away, Heather stepped in quickly. "You're ok, honey," she said, "He's just a cranky man. Don't mind him." She smiled soothingly and the employee rushed away.

As Heather and Greg walked back to the table, she looked at him earnestly. "Greg, can I ask you a favor?"

"Yeah, what?"

"Could you not say the f-word along with Jesus? I can take other swearing, but that, what I just asked you . . . well, it really bothers me." The arrived at their table where three other people were so engaged in a conversation that they didn't even look up.

Greg looked highly amused as he replied, "I can do that."

"Thank-you."

"Why does it bother you?"

Heather gazed at her dessert meditatively. "It's just that when you say something like that, you're associating God with some kind of foul-mouthed orgy." She moved her gaze to Greg's face. "And that isn't what God is at all."

"But why does it bother you? It's just a word."

Heather sighed as she returned her gaze to her dessert. Abruptly, she reached out and knocked Greg's ice cream off the table. His mouth fell open and he threw his hands out to his sides. "What was that about?!" Heather picked the bowl up off the ground and scooped the contents back into it. She handed it back to Greg.

"There you go."

Greg stared at her. "It fell on the ground. I'm not going to eat it."

"Why does it bother you? It's just dirt." And Heather walked away to get a mop.