A little something for all the sinners from Thorn Busch.

Although already versed in New Testament scripture from my Mormon neighbors, I didn’t hear about the Rapture (that special moment when Jesus comes back with lollipops to take away all the believers in a big balloon) until my parents sent me to a non-denominational summer camp in Pinetop, Arizona.

One night after the fire circle, we 8 year-olds we sitting around our bunk telling scary stories. Ashley Winter, not to be outdone by my one-armed hatchet man-hiding-in-the-bathroom tale, informed all of us that while the gays, Jews and Satan-worshippers were going straight to hell, she and the rest of the good Christians were going to fly up to Heaven. There will be no warning, intoned blond Ashley of the ski-sloped nose. Everyone will just be *poof*! gone.

The next morning I woke at dawn. It was eerily silent, no breathing or snoring sounds (in spite of the Gidget-y perfectness Ashley’s nose, it was not so efficient in the exhalation department.) I looked over at the next bed, which appeared to be only a pile of covers. I sat up and surveyed the room in the shadowy light. All the beds were empty! Jesus had come in the middle of the night and taken everyone but the little Jewish girl with the potty mouth! Looking back, I should have been pretty happy because it meant I could get to the showers first and have at least five minutes of hot water, but instead I started screaming.

Suddenly, the sleeping bags came alive, which I mistook for the heathen-eating demons Ashley described in great detail. My counselors placated me with hot chocolate and told Ashley to keep her beliefs to herself, but I was psychically scarred, people.

My folks decided to send me to Jewish camp after that.