The following true story was submitted to us by James, from the Great State of Texas.

James punched in another channel on his car radio as his truck slowly made its way home.  The heat, despite the fact that daylight had ended hours ago, was suffocating.  The sweat dripped down his nose and splattered on the worn, plastic-leather seat covers.  “Criminy,” he thought.  “If hell is hotter than this, you gotta feel sorry for the damned.”

He had been searching through radio stations, looking for a song that would make him forget about everything that had just happened.  To forget about the fact that he had lost about every penny he and his wife had saved during the past five years.  To forget about the people involved in the big business venture that had just abruptly ended, with him losing everything and them losing nothing.  To forget about the hatred boiling in his stomach for them, and the anger boiling in his stomach for God.