Drowned To The Depths Of The Sea

05-05-2010

Iris - We need to sepak to Norman
Father Justin - Norman was the messenger.
Iris - What did he say?
Father Justin - He said that I should obey the bishop.
Iris - Norman has always done what's best for us.
Father Justin - Yes, I know. He saved us.
Iris - More than once
Father Justin - I Won't ignore the will of God...
Iris - But maybe, it's God speaking to you too. First methodist is your rock. Wait, be patient. Your time will come.
Father Justin - Do you know there was a boy here whose mother abandoned him in the restroom of a five-and-dime?
Iris - No, but...
Father Justin - Or that Polly Ann's father sold her to some man for one dollar? No... of course not. Who wants to dwell on things like that? We never consider the little ones, we only put on our clothes. Who can see the children feeding the endless, ravenous hunger of the textile mill? Mechanical mouths that aren't choosy silken thread. A lock of air. A crap of scalp. Tiny torn fingers. We only turn up the heat. Why think of the boys in the mines crouched over the chutes? For hours they sit, sifting the refuse from the coal, their backs bent. Old men by nine. Black lung by twelve. Coal is heavy and hard. Hands are soft and fragile, crushed. Feet crushed. Skulls crushed. Go for a walk, you'll see them. Boys and girls selling themselves to men and women. A nickel buys a virgin. Some are kept in cages. Babies bought by men who raise them as livestock animals to abuse. Soft flesh to violate, to tear and bite. If anyone causes even one of the little ones who believe in me to sin it would be better for him to have a millstone hung around his neck and be drowned to the depths of the sea! They must open their eyes! They must open their mouths and drown!

Carnivale