Part2 Behold The 'Vile Christ'

The display was a collaborative effort by an HMO as part of a political push to further the message that more can be done for gender equality. Quite ironic considering it was a man's corpse who had been tricked into thinking he was going to become transformed from an unlucky street sleeper into a glorious and religious sculpture. Being a devout christian he envisaged becoming an angel, strong gallant wings sprouting from his back arched, poised before the almighty to represent his most wondrous and awe inspiring invention. What became of him, was a cheap nasty betrayal to him as an individual, to his church and gender. The drunken idea that persisted all the way past the planning stage was to put Ray Philloniac into an upside down cross to signify mankind as the 'antichrist'. The idea being, the predictable furious male reaction would be like gasolene and aimed to give her work the recognition and fame required in this day and age to make a significant mark as a single middle aged female with not much time left to join the halls of the greatest historical figures of all time. As is the wish for most feminists to desperately prove their significance as a gender, to justify their thirst for supremacy at any price. The controversial and shocking display was all but gathering dust in the metropolitan museum of art and cultural awareness, not having had the impact it was supposed to, it stayed there for a while until it was later happened upon by a priest, who had learned about Ray's sad life story and had set about raising the funds necessary to take the exhibit down and lay him to rest. Little did he know that his enquiry was exactly the spark she needed to get the publicity required to start her plan in motion.

"Against his wishes, he needs to be buried." The priest concluded.
But it was not as simple as this. The 'art' was legal property of the HMO and licensed to the women's liberty group and so would be costly. The irony being the homeless man's operation, had he that option would have been far, far less than his value as an unwanted piece of art. Peter's Church of the vine had been pressured to employ a female priest, the significance of this being that she was not entirely on board with Peters decision to get involved in such controversial and expensive artworks as Valencia's monstrosities. And being the second decision maker, would have equal influence on the matter. For now however, she was begrudgingly acquiescing.

Mary knew the group Valencia was a part of, it was the same group that campaigned to see her ordained as a priest before the pope. An event that would have been impossible, given the ordinary circumstances and the clear guidance in the book she claimed to profess. Mary did acknowledge the prang of this truth to her conscience and she also knew that the church was on a current path straight down to nowhere, to liquidisation. Another bitter pill she seemed to grasp before Peter, perhaps being cast from the same mould as Valencia, the more being raised to release his body, the more value was gained from the publicity of the item. Just as she presumed the price began to rise. The bidding war was the catalyst for the item that became known as 'vile christ'. And so started the story of a real life zombie apocalypse, here in my very own home town of GREATER Manchester.

The scene that following week was, for the most part a publicity stunt. Several groups showed up to have pictures taken with Ray, some had graffitied his remains, putting tear drops as if coming out of his eyes. Someone else had placed a pink hat on his head, and took a snap pulling devil symbolic hand gestures, writing the noun 'ally' on their text, either in jest or in seriousness it was not clear. Some had noticed a mild unpleasant smell coming from the piece, while others had notice that the art seemed to be aging, as they compared the original leaflet picture. It was this process that caught the attention of the general public and I was this slow rotting that had been planned purposely, specifically for the same morbid interest that drove the same visitors back multiple times in addictive curiosity. The stage was set, the plan was in motion. It was inevitable, this would make her the most talked about artist of her generation a monumental win for her gender. She could see it now. She basked in the preconceived glow of that recognition. With the media on her side, the possibility of a backfire seemed impossible. She flinched a moment in compulsive contemplation and then took another sip of her tea and put it out of her head. She knew she had gone too far, but that was the problem, it seemed no matter what she did to this pitiful creation, it was doomed in rebirth as it was in life to -for reasons unknown- to be completely disregarded, trivialised and dismissed. It seemed just another grain of sand in a desert. It was at this junction, her group had made a unanimous decision as the story reached regional broadcasting groups. Radio, magazines and television stations all began bidding up for her time. This was it! She was ecstatic, her dreams were coming true as she had always believed she deserved, all the while, Rays body began to wilt.

The following conversation happened between 3pm the following day. It was a booby trap. A conversation, loaded with traps to get as much journalistic ammunition as possible. Each sentence was like panning for pure gold. Women can be…(im sorry - its at this point the words so far created in the english language fail me to the fullest extent) the words Im looking for, would start with a whimper, then build to full tears and end in a roar that would last for as long as the pain and oxygen would subside or capitulate. Never has this agony been designed suitable enough to do full justice to the description ive failed to convey in this instance. In a country I love, within a society that's cannibalizing itself and a city who is lost to its most insidious desires gone unchecked.

Valencia Penatrillo was no stranger to the gems she gave away in the moment. As she sobered up in the morning, the hangover gave way to the equal amount of anguish knowing how many cats might be released from their bags. She would give them an exclusive deal to ensure her most seditious plots would remain concealed. She kicked herself for being so easily girlipulated.

But there would be no redemption on this day for all who came to see Ray would at once, without even knowing it, caught idolising a tragically betrayed man, whom became an idolic symbol mocking Gods dead son. For this the judgement was severe and justified and further, the damnation was purely self inflicted. Those who flocked in droves to worship at the vile christ began on their final way towards the darkness lost and without soles. And those who wept and repented, remained weak and broken and their objection vastly outnumbered.