When I came to college I decided I was going to define my new identity. I was going to be the grade A
computer programming star of the universe. What meaning to hold onto. What glory. I would be my true self and
the babes would be impressed too.
I touted my new self to anyone who would tolerate my announcements and self proclaimments of who I
am. Then I met Lukey and realized it wasn't going to be so easy. He had a big computer too, and sat in front of his
all day too. Competition. To the death. At that point I decided to hold a deep grudge against him as well. Then I
remembered I was at college and I was supposed to be nice to people now. I deeply uttered a prayer about "getting
to like Luke too, even though I don't want to."
See, before college I wasn't a very nice person. Then I met this one girl, who was likely related to God
himself, maybe a second cousin. She was nice, and was spiritual all the time. She walked around and was nice to
people and talked about devotions and favorite Bible passages. From meeting her I wanted to be a good person too,
and made her my role model.
That lasted at least two weeks into college when I realized how disgusted with myself for how much of a
fake loser I had been. I had no friends and I felt like a sugar cube all the time. Maybe more like one of those sugar
cubes made out of some sweetening substitute that causes brain cancer in small children and lab rats. That moment I
decided to become a mean nasty unpleasant person again.
"I have baggage," announced Paul Inge, as he marched down the hall. The statement he made moved me
so deeply that I had to sit around and think about it for a while. I had baggage too. I had have a dozen identity
crisis' already this semester, and I needed to get rid of my baggage.
Paul came into my room and sat down.
"I have baggage," he announced again., waiting for the rest of us to care.
Luke walked in, "I can pray for you."
"I have baggage too," I said.
"You have baggage?" asked Paul, "What kind of baggage do you have?"
"Womenfolk baggage," I responded.
"I have baggage too," said Luke, "bad baggage."
"So what is it?" asked Paul.
"It's a bad baggage," said Luke, "because I'm a bad person."
"So what is it?" asked Paul again.
"My roommate has a noose," said Luke.
"We'll pray over you," said Paul. Me and Paul prayed over Luke and asked God to forgive Luke for having
a roommate who has a noose.
"Your sins have been forgiven, my son," said Paul monotonatically.
On that day we formed our baggage group. Once a week for the whole year, we met and had a Bible study
then had baggage hour. We talked about our baggage and debagged.
"I have baggage," I said as I walked into Luke's room. His roommate Jon's noose was still hanging from
the ceiling.
"Don't go near the demonic device," said Luke, "it is evil."
"What's wrong with you?" I asked, "Nooses are cool," and I poked it with my finger to prove that it
wouldn't wither my hand.
Luke screamed in terror as I touched it, expecting my arm to fall off, then he shouted out, "They are devices
of death, therefore evil."
"Why don't you just get over it?" I asked, "I've always wanted one myself."
"They are evil," said Luke, "I don't want that in my room anymore."
"How about you ask him to give it to me?" I suggested.
Luke grumbled something about his suffering. How much he really wished he had gotten a different
roommate maybe, or something else. I had a hard time seeing how those two roommates got paired together. I
knew how my and my roommate Francis did. We had both answered the questions on our "roommate like list"
almost the same. Captain KJV and the Occult..who knows.
"I don't know what's wrong with Luke," whined Jon. He always whined.
"The noose?" I asked.
"Yes, he keeps bugging me about it," said Jon.
"You could give it to me," I suggested.
"No!" cried out Jon, then whined, "It's my noose, and I'm not going to give it to anyone or take it down.
Luke can just learn to live with it."
"He thinks its evil," I said.
"He doesn't just think it's evil," said Jon, "He knows it's evil, and he has ten proof verses from his King
Jams to prove it!"
"Hey Lukey," I said, "How come Jon says you've got ten proof verses that his noose is evil."
Within a few seconds Luke listed off the ten references.
"Did you look those up just so you could tell him his noose is evil?"
"No," explained Luke, "they're off this sheet of verses. 206 Verses for Life. Ten of them are about
avoiding things that are evil."
"Wow," I was amazed.
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