Travel to the New (Obs)

“Our Father, who art in Heaven. Will you accept a collect call? Oh thank goodness! I've been praying around for hours trying to get this number. The Miracles Department said I was searching for salvation. And the Salvation Department said I was asking for miracles. Think there was a clerical error. You still call me Vernon up there, but I'm Scapegoat now. Sca-pe-goat. Well anyway...”
 
The dishevelled form of a young man; white of hair, gaunt in face, kneeled at the base of a marble statue depicting some local Saint. His feet were bare, and smeared with soil, which encased his arms as well. An unusual tint of salmon framed the horizon as sunset progressed. An encroaching darkness helped shelter this secluded section of the cemetery, allowing the ghoul to carry out his activities in relative privacy. To his right was a pile of what might be described as offal. Yet its pungent smell and the cloud of swarming flies were a clear indicator that some graves had just been desecrated. Here were the compacted remains of several cadavers.
 
“Just wanted to give you the low-down. We kinda lost touch for a while. You sent me to stay with some friends. Didn't visit, didn't call, didn't even send me a postcard. I like postcards. The 'wish you were here' at least shows good intentions. Yet you gave me nothing – not one ray of hope. But don't fret! Someone else beat you to the punch. My captors themselves pulled me out of the pit. They didn't have to, no they didn't have to. I think you misjudged them. Maybe if you had a few demon friends yourself you would see that they are pretty all right dudes.

“So they gave me these chains. Said I could stay up here in the light all I wanted. Long as I committed sin. Now, I don't remember too many of your sermons, but wasn't sin one of those things you disapproved of? I thought so... What about the...? Or even the one with the goose feathers, marmalade, and...? And you're sure you don't mean the calculator function? Disapproval of maths is a given... Damn. Then this might be hard to spin.

“I'm going to join this breakaway sect I found out about. Bare with me. You might be down for what these guys stand for. It's called 'evil'. What happens is I serve the forces of darkness wherever and whenever they appear and then don't feel bad about it later. It's a lot of fun! If you just gave it a chance... No? Erm. I'm going through a tunnel. Rubba-dub-dub and thanks for the grub. Amen!”
 
Scapegoat unclasped both hands before tilting back onto his haunches. It was always good to get things off your chest, now he could eat like a good forsaken Christian. Plucking a bone from his food pile, the ghoul began to gnaw. He was reminded of an old hymn and took the time to sing it to himself.