Title: Matthew 6:12
Author: Ekat
Rating: R
Characters: M, JD, and other original characters
Disclaimer: I don't own him. In fact I own very little, please don't sue me. I just write what the muses tell me to.
Feedback: yes please
Archive: please ask first
Summary: Methos remembers a dark moment in his past.
Warning: this story deals with a very touchy part of human history. If you are sensitive about religion, religious persecution, or arguments against the Catholic Church do not read.
************************************************
"Hey, Adam, how's it going?" Joe greeted me with his usual jovial manner as I walked into the small blues bar. I sighed in relief to find that the place was empty, save for him. I was in no mood to deal with people, especially one overly judgmental Scotsman of my acquaintance.
"Let's just say, I'm drinking to forget," I said as I sat down at the bar. Magically an open beer appeared in front of me.
"Wanna talk about it?" Was that concern in his voice? I looked up at my friend, his dark eyes holding no judgement. That's what I liked about the mortal. He never seemed to hold my past against me, just taking it in stride realizing that it was what made me me.
"Have you ever walked down the street, seen a random face in the crowd, and have that face spark a memory that you thought you had buried so deep that it would never see the light of day again?" He nodded. "I had one of those moments earlier today and I just keep replaying the memory, over and over and over again. It's not one I'm proud of, Joe."
"Adam, we've all done things we are not proud of."
"Yeah, I just seem to have had more than the average person." I took a long draft of the beer.
"You have had five thousand plus years on this planet. I would think you have had more than the average person has. Do you want to talk about it? I promise, off the record. Just think of me as a Father Confessor."
I chuckled. "The Church is the reason for the memories, Joe, let's not make that correlation here. I saw this girl today. She couldn't have been older than eighteen. Long black hair, eyes so brown they could have been black. Slim, but not anorexically thin. Graceful, and self-assured."
"Who did she remind you of?"
"Spain."
****************************************
Castile, 1488 CE
****************************************
My horse shook his head in protest. I couldn't blame him. All either of us wanted was to be home, warm, with full stomachs. It was late, it was dark and here we were in the woods searching for the heretics believed to be hiding near by.
I still couldn't believe I was doing this. Me, the one who hadn't actively sought a battle in centuries, who over two thousand years ago I had vowed to stop being the terror of nations, was now a captain in the army of the Holy Inquisition. Why was I doing this? To save my head, that's why. I didn't believe in their God any more than I believed in any god. But for the sanctuary of holy ground I had to play the part.
Unfortunately they discovered that I knew which way to hold a sword, and I got "persuaded" to join the army. It was too late by that point to make a run for it, so I agreed and ended up leading the brute squad for a holy war I didn't believe in and could easily fall victim to myself.
My men were spread out ahead of me. Reports had come in of a group of people holding unholy rituals and summoning the devil, so we got dispatched to find them and bring them in for questioning.
I was lost in my thoughts and self pity when I heard the screams. I spurred my horse ahead, in search of the altercation. I found it a few minutes later.
I came across a clearing. Bodies of men, women and children littered the area. Most of my men were still fighting against this small band of peasants. I ordered the men to stop and bind the peasants to bring with us for questioning. By the time they were done, there were only four still alive out of what looked to be roughly twenty individuals.
A loud feminine scream grabbed my attention and drew me towards a small group of my men. They were circled around something. I pushed my way through to find on of the soldiers, pants around knees, raping a young girl. She was crying out in pain and fear. I knew those cries all too well. Many times they haunted my nightmares.
"What in the name of the Holy Church do you think you are doing?" I demanded as I reached down and lifted the man by his shirt. I threw him to the other side of the group as I stood over him. "Did I grant you permission to take your pleasure with any of the captives?"
He sat there silently looking up at me. "DID I!?!" I yelled at him.
"No, sir."
"I should bring you up before the Holy Office for this." He paled. "Get yourself cleaned up and pray that I stay in a generous mood." I turned my back to him and looked down at his victim. She had rolled over onto her side in a fetal position and way crying. She had tried to pull the remnants of her tattered blue dress over her exposed body, but there was very little fabric left in tact to hide much. I removed my cloak and draped it over her. I helped her to her feet.
"My apologies, Senorita," I said to her. She raised her head to look at me. Her young face was bruised and her bottom lip was split. Her dark brown eyes held nothing but contempt. Without breaking eye contact, she spat into my face. I casually reached up, wiped it off my cheek and flicked it to the ground.
I turned and faced my men. "Strip one of the corpses for some clothing for this one and put her with the others." I walked over to my horse, mounted him and sat waiting for my orders to be followed. Eventually all the survivors of the raid were tied together and we started the long walk back home.
Shortly into the march, a young boy, he couldn't have been more than twelve started whispering to the others. "We need to get out of here. We need to escape. Who's with me?"
A woman tried to hush him. "Paolo, be quiet. We are only five against thirty. We cannot escape."
The young boy was not hearing it. "Louisa, what do you think?" The girl I had rescued looked over her shoulder at the boy.
"Viva, crezca mas fuerte, luche otro dia," she said to him and then returned to staring straight ahead. ^
I had to fight the urge to laugh out loud. How many times had I said those same words in other languages to my students? There was more to this girl than met the eye. She wasn't an Immortal, nor did she have the feel of a pre-Immortal but she certainly held the wisdom of someone of older years. She was definitely one to keep an eye on.
"But, surely..." he started. I had had enough chatter and I couldn't let it continue and still play the part life currently cast me as. I rode up and backhanded him.
"Silence," I demanded. He glared at me but had the good sense to keep his mouth shut. I urged my mount forward so that I rode along side of the girl. "You seem rather pensive, Senorita. May I ask what you are thinking?"
Without looking up at me she said flatly, "That I am going to my death."
"Not necessarily," I tell her. "If you convert and confess your sins, they might let you live." I didn't really believe the words I was saying to her but I felt the need to comfort her.
"Convert?" she half laughed as she looked up at me. "Convert to a religion that preaches 'love thy neighbor' while killing them because they see a different face of the Divine?" She shook her head. "I don't think so. I was Catholic once. But I grew up and became more enlightened."
I envied her and her ability to remain true to her beliefs. "Then yes, you will most likely die." Sadness crept into my voice.
"Why do you do this, Captain?" she asked me. "I can see it in your eyes that you do not believe in what you do."
"I owe the Church my life," I told her. In a way it was true. The Catholic Church had provided me with sanctuary on more than one occasion. My head was still on my shoulders because of the "no fighting on holy ground" rule.
"You're loyalty astounds me," she commented and returned to gazing straight ahead. I rode the rest of the way in silence. My thoughts were going a mile a minute.
I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I didn't even notice that we had returned to the town. I ordered my men to secure the prisoners into their cells and sought the haven of my bed, although it was a while before sleep came to me.
The next morning I was instructed to bring the prisoners before the inquisitional court. The last to be brought before them was the girl. She held her head high and carried herself with a grace that hid any fear she might be experiencing. She stood before the court refusing to make eye contact with any of the members.
"What is your name?' one of the priest asked. She stood there, not acknowledging that she had been spoken to. "Come girl, this will be much easier on you if you cooperate."
"I was baptized with the name Louisa Teresa de Serantes," she said coldly. I don't think they expected her to admit that she had been baptized. Unfortunately, though, she just confessed to having been Catholic, which meant that she was now eligible for prosecution by the Inquisition.
Another priest started to ask her a question. I cleared my throat. He turned to look at me. "Do you have something to say Captain Antigua?"
"Only that the accused has not yet been provided the services of an advocate, Your Eminence," I reminded him.
"She is nothing more than a uncivilized, uneducated, heretic bitch," one of the other priests said in Latin. "Why do we waste our time with her?"
She shifted her gaze to look at her accusers. "I may be a bitch, " she told them in Latin, "and a heretic by your definition of the word, but I am NOT uncivilized nor am I uneducated." I had to fight the giggle that crept up. The look on the faces of the court was highly amusing. That was certainly not the response they expected.
"Captain," the Grand Inquisitioner called to me. I stepped forward. "Take her away and see that she is seen by an advocate." I snapped a salute and escorted her back to her cell.
The next day, after see refused the services of an advocate, she was brought back before the court.
"Do you have anything to say before we begin?" she was asked.
"Only that after having spent time in your lovely establishment, I have come to realize that evil truly does exist on Earth."
"And what do you perceive to be evil?"
"You are," she spat. One of the priests, stood up, walked over to her and slapped her. She turned her head and looked at her assailant. He squirmed under her gaze.
"Why do you stare at him like that?" another priest asked. "Are you trying to make him one of your demonic puppets?"
She looked back at the rest of the court. "Does not your god teach 'turn the other cheek'? I am merely making it easier for him to reach it." The priest standing next to her slapped her again.
"Do you confess your sins before the one True God and vow to change your ways?" he demanded.
"What makes your god any better than mine?" she demanded back.
"Take this heretic bitch away and have her whipped. We shall beat that insolence out of you girl."
She merely glared at the priests as I dragged her away. I couldn't bring myself to be the one to carry out her punishment. Instead, I stood there and watched as another soldier did it. It took everything within me not to shed tears as she screamed in pain. I felt the same way that she did, but I was too scared of losing my head to stand up for her.
The next day was even worse. I escorted her into the interrogation room. Another soldier tied her hands behind her back and then to a rope that was suspended by a pulley from the ceiling.
The head priest stood in front of her. "Do you confess your sins?" Her response was to spit in his face. He slapped her and then nodded at the soldier holding the other end of the rope tied to her wrists. She was raised about 10 feet off the floor. My arms ached out of sympathy. Her face remained impassive.
"Do you not understand, child, that we are doing this to save you. If you do not confess you force us to execute you?"
"But why?" she asked innocently.
"Exodus 22:18 says that 'thou shalt not suffer a witch to live'," he told her.
She looked at him. "Exodus 20:13 says that 'thou shalt not kill'."
The priest's face grew bright red. He nodded and the soldier let go of the rope for a split second before catching it again. She dropped and the stopped suddenly. I heard an audible pop as her shoulders dislocated. I saw that she had bitten her lip to keep from crying out in pain.
"Confess. If you do not, you die without the proper sacraments. Do you not fear death?" She started shaking with laughter. "What is so funny?" he demanded.
"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for thou..." The priest slapped her before she could finish quoting the psalm.
"Do you confess your sins before God?"
"Do you?" she demanded back. The priest shook in rage.
"Take her away. She burns at dawn for the witch she is." I bowed my head, more in an attempt to hide my tears than in obeisance.
I stood there and watched the soldier lead her out of the room. I looked up at the court. "You have something to say Captain?" the head Inquisitioner asked me.
"Your Eminence, I beg mercy for her. She is but a child."
"A child who knows well enough that she had turned her back on the Ever-living God. She must be purified, Captain. Don't tell me you are questioning the wisdom of the Church."
"No, Your Eminence," I said, bowing deeply. "Thank you." I turned and left the room.
As the first tendrils of the rising sun streaked across the morning sky, she was brought to the center of town. There she was lead up to the top of the pyre and secured to the stake.
"Louisa Teresa de Serantes," the Grand Inquisitioner said, "you have been judged guilty of the high crime of heresy. The punishment for such is purification by flame. Do you have anything to say before we pass sentence?"
"Matthew 6:15 says 'if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.' I shall see you in Hell priest!"
"Captain Antigua, carry out the sentence."
I nodded, and walked toward the pyre, torch in hand. I looked up at her. "I'm sorry," I whispered to her as I touched the flame to the wood at her feet.
"I know," she whispered back. "I forgive you."
************************************
I looked up at my mortal friend. Like me, he had tears in his eyes.
"That girl was the bravest person I have ever met, Joe. She stood there and held my gaze as the flames consumed her body. I couldn't stop it. It was her or me." I felt the tears roll down my cheek and fall onto the polished wood of the bar. "She had more conviction in her beliefs at seventeen that I have ever had in my 5000 years. And look, here it is over 500 years since I lit the fire, I still mourn for her."
"Matthew 5:4," Joe said to me.
I looked up at him and blinked, trying to remember the passage. "Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted?" He nodded and handed me another beer.
We sat there, in silence. Mourning and comforting.
I thanked God for understanding friends like Joe Dawson. Not everyone would forgive me my trespasses.
~End~
^Viva, crezca mas fuerte, luche otro dia: (Spanish) Live, grow stronger, fight another day.
A/N: thank you to Katie who encouraged me to finish and post this regardless of the controversy it may cause. Have a cold cherry coke on me.
Author: Ekat
Rating: R
Characters: M, JD, and other original characters
Disclaimer: I don't own him. In fact I own very little, please don't sue me. I just write what the muses tell me to.
Feedback: yes please
Archive: please ask first
Summary: Methos remembers a dark moment in his past.
Warning: this story deals with a very touchy part of human history. If you are sensitive about religion, religious persecution, or arguments against the Catholic Church do not read.
************************************************
"Hey, Adam, how's it going?" Joe greeted me with his usual jovial manner as I walked into the small blues bar. I sighed in relief to find that the place was empty, save for him. I was in no mood to deal with people, especially one overly judgmental Scotsman of my acquaintance.
"Let's just say, I'm drinking to forget," I said as I sat down at the bar. Magically an open beer appeared in front of me.
"Wanna talk about it?" Was that concern in his voice? I looked up at my friend, his dark eyes holding no judgement. That's what I liked about the mortal. He never seemed to hold my past against me, just taking it in stride realizing that it was what made me me.
"Have you ever walked down the street, seen a random face in the crowd, and have that face spark a memory that you thought you had buried so deep that it would never see the light of day again?" He nodded. "I had one of those moments earlier today and I just keep replaying the memory, over and over and over again. It's not one I'm proud of, Joe."
"Adam, we've all done things we are not proud of."
"Yeah, I just seem to have had more than the average person." I took a long draft of the beer.
"You have had five thousand plus years on this planet. I would think you have had more than the average person has. Do you want to talk about it? I promise, off the record. Just think of me as a Father Confessor."
I chuckled. "The Church is the reason for the memories, Joe, let's not make that correlation here. I saw this girl today. She couldn't have been older than eighteen. Long black hair, eyes so brown they could have been black. Slim, but not anorexically thin. Graceful, and self-assured."
"Who did she remind you of?"
"Spain."
****************************************
Castile, 1488 CE
****************************************
My horse shook his head in protest. I couldn't blame him. All either of us wanted was to be home, warm, with full stomachs. It was late, it was dark and here we were in the woods searching for the heretics believed to be hiding near by.
I still couldn't believe I was doing this. Me, the one who hadn't actively sought a battle in centuries, who over two thousand years ago I had vowed to stop being the terror of nations, was now a captain in the army of the Holy Inquisition. Why was I doing this? To save my head, that's why. I didn't believe in their God any more than I believed in any god. But for the sanctuary of holy ground I had to play the part.
Unfortunately they discovered that I knew which way to hold a sword, and I got "persuaded" to join the army. It was too late by that point to make a run for it, so I agreed and ended up leading the brute squad for a holy war I didn't believe in and could easily fall victim to myself.
My men were spread out ahead of me. Reports had come in of a group of people holding unholy rituals and summoning the devil, so we got dispatched to find them and bring them in for questioning.
I was lost in my thoughts and self pity when I heard the screams. I spurred my horse ahead, in search of the altercation. I found it a few minutes later.
I came across a clearing. Bodies of men, women and children littered the area. Most of my men were still fighting against this small band of peasants. I ordered the men to stop and bind the peasants to bring with us for questioning. By the time they were done, there were only four still alive out of what looked to be roughly twenty individuals.
A loud feminine scream grabbed my attention and drew me towards a small group of my men. They were circled around something. I pushed my way through to find on of the soldiers, pants around knees, raping a young girl. She was crying out in pain and fear. I knew those cries all too well. Many times they haunted my nightmares.
"What in the name of the Holy Church do you think you are doing?" I demanded as I reached down and lifted the man by his shirt. I threw him to the other side of the group as I stood over him. "Did I grant you permission to take your pleasure with any of the captives?"
He sat there silently looking up at me. "DID I!?!" I yelled at him.
"No, sir."
"I should bring you up before the Holy Office for this." He paled. "Get yourself cleaned up and pray that I stay in a generous mood." I turned my back to him and looked down at his victim. She had rolled over onto her side in a fetal position and way crying. She had tried to pull the remnants of her tattered blue dress over her exposed body, but there was very little fabric left in tact to hide much. I removed my cloak and draped it over her. I helped her to her feet.
"My apologies, Senorita," I said to her. She raised her head to look at me. Her young face was bruised and her bottom lip was split. Her dark brown eyes held nothing but contempt. Without breaking eye contact, she spat into my face. I casually reached up, wiped it off my cheek and flicked it to the ground.
I turned and faced my men. "Strip one of the corpses for some clothing for this one and put her with the others." I walked over to my horse, mounted him and sat waiting for my orders to be followed. Eventually all the survivors of the raid were tied together and we started the long walk back home.
Shortly into the march, a young boy, he couldn't have been more than twelve started whispering to the others. "We need to get out of here. We need to escape. Who's with me?"
A woman tried to hush him. "Paolo, be quiet. We are only five against thirty. We cannot escape."
The young boy was not hearing it. "Louisa, what do you think?" The girl I had rescued looked over her shoulder at the boy.
"Viva, crezca mas fuerte, luche otro dia," she said to him and then returned to staring straight ahead. ^
I had to fight the urge to laugh out loud. How many times had I said those same words in other languages to my students? There was more to this girl than met the eye. She wasn't an Immortal, nor did she have the feel of a pre-Immortal but she certainly held the wisdom of someone of older years. She was definitely one to keep an eye on.
"But, surely..." he started. I had had enough chatter and I couldn't let it continue and still play the part life currently cast me as. I rode up and backhanded him.
"Silence," I demanded. He glared at me but had the good sense to keep his mouth shut. I urged my mount forward so that I rode along side of the girl. "You seem rather pensive, Senorita. May I ask what you are thinking?"
Without looking up at me she said flatly, "That I am going to my death."
"Not necessarily," I tell her. "If you convert and confess your sins, they might let you live." I didn't really believe the words I was saying to her but I felt the need to comfort her.
"Convert?" she half laughed as she looked up at me. "Convert to a religion that preaches 'love thy neighbor' while killing them because they see a different face of the Divine?" She shook her head. "I don't think so. I was Catholic once. But I grew up and became more enlightened."
I envied her and her ability to remain true to her beliefs. "Then yes, you will most likely die." Sadness crept into my voice.
"Why do you do this, Captain?" she asked me. "I can see it in your eyes that you do not believe in what you do."
"I owe the Church my life," I told her. In a way it was true. The Catholic Church had provided me with sanctuary on more than one occasion. My head was still on my shoulders because of the "no fighting on holy ground" rule.
"You're loyalty astounds me," she commented and returned to gazing straight ahead. I rode the rest of the way in silence. My thoughts were going a mile a minute.
I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I didn't even notice that we had returned to the town. I ordered my men to secure the prisoners into their cells and sought the haven of my bed, although it was a while before sleep came to me.
The next morning I was instructed to bring the prisoners before the inquisitional court. The last to be brought before them was the girl. She held her head high and carried herself with a grace that hid any fear she might be experiencing. She stood before the court refusing to make eye contact with any of the members.
"What is your name?' one of the priest asked. She stood there, not acknowledging that she had been spoken to. "Come girl, this will be much easier on you if you cooperate."
"I was baptized with the name Louisa Teresa de Serantes," she said coldly. I don't think they expected her to admit that she had been baptized. Unfortunately, though, she just confessed to having been Catholic, which meant that she was now eligible for prosecution by the Inquisition.
Another priest started to ask her a question. I cleared my throat. He turned to look at me. "Do you have something to say Captain Antigua?"
"Only that the accused has not yet been provided the services of an advocate, Your Eminence," I reminded him.
"She is nothing more than a uncivilized, uneducated, heretic bitch," one of the other priests said in Latin. "Why do we waste our time with her?"
She shifted her gaze to look at her accusers. "I may be a bitch, " she told them in Latin, "and a heretic by your definition of the word, but I am NOT uncivilized nor am I uneducated." I had to fight the giggle that crept up. The look on the faces of the court was highly amusing. That was certainly not the response they expected.
"Captain," the Grand Inquisitioner called to me. I stepped forward. "Take her away and see that she is seen by an advocate." I snapped a salute and escorted her back to her cell.
The next day, after see refused the services of an advocate, she was brought back before the court.
"Do you have anything to say before we begin?" she was asked.
"Only that after having spent time in your lovely establishment, I have come to realize that evil truly does exist on Earth."
"And what do you perceive to be evil?"
"You are," she spat. One of the priests, stood up, walked over to her and slapped her. She turned her head and looked at her assailant. He squirmed under her gaze.
"Why do you stare at him like that?" another priest asked. "Are you trying to make him one of your demonic puppets?"
She looked back at the rest of the court. "Does not your god teach 'turn the other cheek'? I am merely making it easier for him to reach it." The priest standing next to her slapped her again.
"Do you confess your sins before the one True God and vow to change your ways?" he demanded.
"What makes your god any better than mine?" she demanded back.
"Take this heretic bitch away and have her whipped. We shall beat that insolence out of you girl."
She merely glared at the priests as I dragged her away. I couldn't bring myself to be the one to carry out her punishment. Instead, I stood there and watched as another soldier did it. It took everything within me not to shed tears as she screamed in pain. I felt the same way that she did, but I was too scared of losing my head to stand up for her.
The next day was even worse. I escorted her into the interrogation room. Another soldier tied her hands behind her back and then to a rope that was suspended by a pulley from the ceiling.
The head priest stood in front of her. "Do you confess your sins?" Her response was to spit in his face. He slapped her and then nodded at the soldier holding the other end of the rope tied to her wrists. She was raised about 10 feet off the floor. My arms ached out of sympathy. Her face remained impassive.
"Do you not understand, child, that we are doing this to save you. If you do not confess you force us to execute you?"
"But why?" she asked innocently.
"Exodus 22:18 says that 'thou shalt not suffer a witch to live'," he told her.
She looked at him. "Exodus 20:13 says that 'thou shalt not kill'."
The priest's face grew bright red. He nodded and the soldier let go of the rope for a split second before catching it again. She dropped and the stopped suddenly. I heard an audible pop as her shoulders dislocated. I saw that she had bitten her lip to keep from crying out in pain.
"Confess. If you do not, you die without the proper sacraments. Do you not fear death?" She started shaking with laughter. "What is so funny?" he demanded.
"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for thou..." The priest slapped her before she could finish quoting the psalm.
"Do you confess your sins before God?"
"Do you?" she demanded back. The priest shook in rage.
"Take her away. She burns at dawn for the witch she is." I bowed my head, more in an attempt to hide my tears than in obeisance.
I stood there and watched the soldier lead her out of the room. I looked up at the court. "You have something to say Captain?" the head Inquisitioner asked me.
"Your Eminence, I beg mercy for her. She is but a child."
"A child who knows well enough that she had turned her back on the Ever-living God. She must be purified, Captain. Don't tell me you are questioning the wisdom of the Church."
"No, Your Eminence," I said, bowing deeply. "Thank you." I turned and left the room.
As the first tendrils of the rising sun streaked across the morning sky, she was brought to the center of town. There she was lead up to the top of the pyre and secured to the stake.
"Louisa Teresa de Serantes," the Grand Inquisitioner said, "you have been judged guilty of the high crime of heresy. The punishment for such is purification by flame. Do you have anything to say before we pass sentence?"
"Matthew 6:15 says 'if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.' I shall see you in Hell priest!"
"Captain Antigua, carry out the sentence."
I nodded, and walked toward the pyre, torch in hand. I looked up at her. "I'm sorry," I whispered to her as I touched the flame to the wood at her feet.
"I know," she whispered back. "I forgive you."
************************************
I looked up at my mortal friend. Like me, he had tears in his eyes.
"That girl was the bravest person I have ever met, Joe. She stood there and held my gaze as the flames consumed her body. I couldn't stop it. It was her or me." I felt the tears roll down my cheek and fall onto the polished wood of the bar. "She had more conviction in her beliefs at seventeen that I have ever had in my 5000 years. And look, here it is over 500 years since I lit the fire, I still mourn for her."
"Matthew 5:4," Joe said to me.
I looked up at him and blinked, trying to remember the passage. "Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted?" He nodded and handed me another beer.
We sat there, in silence. Mourning and comforting.
I thanked God for understanding friends like Joe Dawson. Not everyone would forgive me my trespasses.
~End~
^Viva, crezca mas fuerte, luche otro dia: (Spanish) Live, grow stronger, fight another day.
A/N: thank you to Katie who encouraged me to finish and post this regardless of the controversy it may cause. Have a cold cherry coke on me.