I imagine they got drunk ... or laid ... or sat staring at their hands unable to conjure up words ... or cried.
The man they'd put all of their hopes, faith and love in was dead. It had been a terrible thing to watch.
To make it all worse, one of their best friends hung himself ... or cut himself in two, depending on which version you believe.
Regardless, their world had crumbled.
Each wondered what they were going to do now? Every single one of them questioned how in the hell they could have allowed themselves to give their life completely away ... to what somebody else believed.
Somebody had let them down.
There was no Kingdom Come. All of his promises of peace and love proved to be nice talk but nothing else. The man had known how to use words ... damn he could talk pretty ... making them believe with everything inside of them ... only to be left with nothing.
Then the Government made plans with the Preachers, and it's never good with those two mix, and they took him ... beat the shit out of him ... and nailed his ass to a cross.
Disciples watched in horror.
A whore cried.
A mother wailed.
But most everyone else ... laughed. Then again the majority party normally does.
I know how they felt. I've been there. It sucks. I was left behind. I've lost what I believed in. Things I'd spent years believing in and working towards were snatched away by self-serving bastards. I was left staring at my hands with nothing to say. I got wasted. I got laid looking for comfort that wasn't there. Words failed me. I felt like a failure. I know what it's like to be passed over.
I like the Disciples.
I think that I am one.
They are my kind of people.
But I know something that they didn't ... better days are ahead.
