What an inappropriate time to have comedic relief, but I'm at this Gospel Fest in Chicago so I must...

Do a chapter that has nothing to do with this. Get ready...

The Fest was quiet. If it could be called a fest. The withering tents, like deteriorating structures from the force of the wind, puddles that make you wish you never came.

"Hey, why don't ya play our game? Take this sheet while you're at it."

"Thanks," Desraim took it and wondered to herself if he was the priest over this section, albeit tent, of the fair that she had happened to make homey inside of due to the rain. He was black, with a scruffy 'stache and of course bald, like an average gospel preacher or singer but then she wondered how rude she was to think that when she looked at the paper. ByronJones: Sr. Community Leading Mortgage Banker.

Um, Desraim thought, recovering from that moment of stereotyping. She went toward the blonde, pale lady with stringy hair. Maybe from the rain, Desraim thought. "So you put this puck into the rack and there's three win slots and two loose slots. There's three pucks." An avid explanation, it she took, and started placing the pucks on the racks and watched then slide...bump pegs...fall into three wins. Desraim looked up at her comment, "You get to take a cup and a cooler," and took what she told Desraim too. A cooler? Desraim thought, holding the material up to her own face. It looks nothing like a cooler. It was a rectangular, flat bag with probably some insulator material inside.

She sat back on the bleacher-like seat, closed eyes. Then the microphone finally picked up some vibes. "Chicago!" She blinked her eyes open, crinkled on the sides with pride. Yeah, that was her homeland.

Rainy, cold, and unpredictable.

"Let's listen to this introduction of our sponsors by Byron Jones."

Desraim gasped inside. The Banker.

"Hello, hello, hello! Clap real loud when you hear these names: Pepsi, Aquafina, The Private Bank..." She yawned.

"Celebrating the 30th year of the Gospel Fest in Chicago," the previous speaker took away the mike.

After his dissertation, Byron took it back, "...the Youth Gospel Stage across the street." Cool, she could go there, because this stage is boring.

The man, Byron, continued. "Say Chi Gospel Music Fest! Say it three times...Chi Gospel Music Fest! Yeah, that's what I'm talking about! Anybody from Indiana?"

The loud, booming sounds spoke enticements into her ear from over at the Youth Stage while she tapped her brown, ugly fingers on her knee, gospelly chorusy voices and a thumping base melting together. Then they got louder, the voices: they were actually this stage's. And the base faded into the background, what she then guessed was that of the "Youth Gospel Stage", while the man up there with Byron began to talk. His message droned over the ambient voices hypnotically, and then she felt her heart jump into her stomach at the moment of impact: speaker waves colliding with her eardrums at many decibels. She got up, shaking her head, after listening intently with clamped hands. She couldn't deal with it. It was vibrating her ribcage, poking holes into her inner ear that probably wouldn't repair, those thunderous sounds.

She walked down the aisle like a rejected sinner, a granny looking back, in front of Desraim, with suspicion in her eyes. She didn't take the granny's purse or anything.

Far away, the sounds of love and prosperity to a God flooded her perspective with sadness since she couldn't be a part of it, so not close to the stage with the jumping men and the singing girls...she growled, looking at this 'cooler' she earned. "Never, ever coming to a Gospel Fest again."

"Want to get a drink? Grey Goose is only a walk a way," she pointed to a far tent that Desraim imagined she could see.

Uthgerd wore cut jeans an a laced-up t. The little skin-shower. It was like 39 degrees out here. But Desraim wasn't judging, and pulled down her long shirt over her own shorts. "P-please tell me t-the weather n-next time I come out with you."

"Uh, look. They're playing your favorite - rock," she said as a riff tickled my ears.

"Integrating rock to try to get us all. Not gonna happen," I said, absently bobbing my head to the constellations of music each shining star on the stage made.

"Yeah. Let's go. I'm gonna getcha so drunk you're gonna have a good time and not whine about everything, party-pooper."

I scratched my head while standing up, slinging a hand through the crook of her elbow to support my rather sleepy self...the blasting music made me numb and querer descansar. "Since when did it become okay to drink at a God-devoted festival?"

"Since he said, 'take ye, drink ye all of it'."

Good point, Desraim thought to herself, pouting at the inconvenience of everything. She could go get that car now so they could leave. The speakers were louder than Warped Tour, and that's saying something. It was too loud.

Wait, Desraim knew what she could do. She wobbled down the isle on her friend's arm, weak from the ear-tiring noise. "Hallelujah..." Kierra Sheard sang. She took the stage after the other guy did, Desraim thought. "Yeah, Hallelujah, we worship, hm hm, nice song," Desraim sang, then said, breath filling her lungs, wide mouth getting wider, eyes closing tight, "Fuuuuuuus Roooooooooooooo!"

Kiki shrieked as she flew back, smashing into her backups, and the was stage blowing from beneathe them all, all the matter involved flying into the sky. The lights all around them busted out and the music dereriorated to loud pickups, feed, and static. "Aaah," Desraim said, the small crowd that had gathered at the beginning of the Fest staring at her with worried and wide eyes. "Now, we can leave. Bill's on me. Summon Sam so we can cause some more chaos," Desraim mumbled, crunching Uthgerd's hand in hers and jerking her away from the scene for surprise that had gripped her stagnant buddy.

"Oh my goodness, gotta teach me that," Uthgerd said, running behind in her jacked-up vans.

Desraim frowned, the hilariousness of the situation not getting to her until a policeman shoved himself into her way, pointing a taser at her face. "That bounty'll be 200,000."

Desraim sighed. Pulled out a knife from her back pocket. "Look...how about we make you the sacrifice...wait, is everyone from Skyrim here?"

"Give money to Talos. He wants you to, for you to go to Sovngarde," the priest that usually stands near the Talos shrine in Dragonsreach spoke.

"Dang," Desraim muffed herself in the face.

"Now, about that bounty?" The guard took his time to replace the taser and draw a sword as if Desraim'd retaliate.

Then Uthgerd took out her iron sword from her 'posing guitar case' that had been bobbing along her back all this time, and then said, "Wait. Didn't you just harm that little innocent Kiki and others back there?"

Desraim sighed even louder. Everyone gave her the stank face, and the priest even said "Don't want give me any money? You're going to go to hell!"

A butterfly, blue, flew past, its wings decorated as with dew. This is the time, it spoke to her in her mind but not knowing that she was contemplating eating it, that you run away.

Kay, butterfly, I'm gonna take your advice, she snatched it, broke its wings and stuffed 'em in her pocket, and sped up past the silver Bean, ducking under it, and yelling for her life.

Guess what. I finally edited it. So comment, research what references I used you were probably unsure about and enjoy your lives today. :) (This would be a good time to refresh my book by unadding it, then readding it again to your library, or if you didn't add it, add it, to try and reverse any silly mistakes Wattpad makes on my story that make it sometimes unreadable. Completely exiting out and coming back into Wattpad Wonderland also helps on annoying phones :D). Thanks for reading this little divergent (not the movie, of course) excerpt!