Harold was a mild-mannered man who lived sparingly in a small apartment in the city. He went to work each day at the same time, and came home each night at the same time. He drove the same route. He mostly bought the same groceries each week when he did his shopping. He watched the same TV shows, and wore pretty much the same types of clothing every single day.

To some Harold was a very boring man, but in Harold's world, it all made sense. He knew what he liked, and he didn't care to expend a lot of energy thinking of new ways to do everyday things.

Harold liked to read, and spent his free time either reading a novel (always classics, he didn't like current fiction) or magazines. Harold read a lot of topical matters online - news, blog discussion, political web sites, etc. So by and large Harold was intelligent and well informed.

One thing Harold didn't care for was religion. He was a quiet, spiritual person, but didn't believe in what religion had become. He saw it as a racket - making money, influencing people, supporting corrupt politicians, causing hostility around the globe, leading to arguments, etc. He thought whatever religion might have been, had become so twisted that the less intelligent turned it into something despicable and wrong.

Of course Harold kept this to himself, since religion in our country is such a touchy subject. Harold would have loved to engage in a reasonable discussion on the topic, but he knew that was almost impossible. People didn't care to discuss religion in such a way, preferring to make intense, unfriendly assertions on the subject. And since Harold didn't like any of that type of discussion, he kept quiet.

But even trying to be quiet, religion - and its fervent followers - have a way of getting into your realm nonetheless. Harold often heard office chit chat that was both humorous and infuriating. He bit his tongue and didn't comment when one obviously Christian woman would go on about how the President was a good God-fearing man and no doubt put on our planet for a higher cause.

He ignored atheists mocking God and making fun of Jesus. He looked the other way at the frustration of Jewish co-workers, and the racism levied against Muslim employees.

Harold would go home and turn on the TV and see the topic thrust into his face - religious programming on TV, angry right wing talk show hosts spouting hatred guised as religion. The comedians were having a field day with the topic; even cartoons were getting into the act. Scientology was popular amongst celebrities, adding their own twist.

Harold ate his soup, watched the TV, shaking his head.

He believed in God - some kind of God - but was not so convinced the stories written in the bible were true. He felt the book was written to control the lower classes, keeping them from tearing the rich elite to shreds back in the day, and felt if there was anything to the stories, it was generalizations, not actual depictions of what happened.

He felt, for instance, that there likely was a farmer named Noah, who built a boat when a flood came, and took his animals on board. But that there were two of every creature on the planet aboard the boat? Impossible. How could he get two of every kind of animal? How could he cage and feed them? How could he keep the animals from eating one another? It was a nice little story, but Harold thought it absurd.

That was generally his feeling with religion and its followers as a whole. He had no problem whatsoever with people following their own faith. He thought people believing in something, hopefully keeping them morally responsible, was a wonderful idea. He could only imagine what the world might be like if people had no such system to control their behavior. But Harold felt that somewhere between declaring one's self a certain denomination, and then practicing those beliefs - at home, in church, temple, what have you, that the disciples had lost their way.

Harold didn't like that people who followed Jesus, the ultimate peacenik, for example, spoke of war, killing, torture and other hateful things. If they loved Jesus, shouldn't they try to live like Jesus? Why hate the poor and consider them sponges, leeches trying to benefit somehow from the system? Why hate anyone who didn't think like they did? Why condone unethical politics, cheat on their spouses, hit their children, steal, slander, accuse and generally carry themselves almost exactly opposite of their lord and savior?

It was all very curious for Harold, who didn't propose to have the answers to every question, but did try to live everyday in accordance with his values, which he felt were very strong and mostly righteous.

Harold was a good man - patient, honest, compassionate, generous, loving and fair. He got a kick out of watching the political pundits and followers use Jesus as a battering ram for their actions, when in actuality Jesus would be appalled by this abomination of his name and words.

The political landscape became precarious. Voting began to appear less than honest. Wars were begun for scant reasons and seemed to be used for profit. Actual human beings were killed in the name of God and decency. The world truly was upside down, and while religion likely wasn't the reason - corruption, stupidity and evil were the reasons - religion was one of the ruses being used.

The government knew that if they used religion, just as had been done for centuries and centuries before, the masses would rally. So spirituality and patriotism became the stuff used to evoke the reactions the government wanted from their people. Harold read his novels and watched his TV shows and kept an eye on all of the other stuff, just so he could see how it all unfolded.

His office became a hotbed of opinions - people yelling, throwing things, cursing, insulting people different than themselves, etc. The entire workplace, the city, the state and the country became increasingly mad and hostile. Harold wondered what would happen - if perhaps the people would discover the tripe the President and his administration was pulling, and lash out. It might be impossible, Harold thought, but if enough people became so mad, then even a rigged vote would not fly.

Harold went home from his office - the same route, as always - and unlocked both locks, as per usual, and took off his shoes and socks. He ran a hot bath, grabbed a few magazines and a book, and set them near the tub. Harold undressed, looked at himself in the bathroom mirror as the tub filled.

He saw a face that was both sad and extremely upbeat. Harold noticed a few small age lines around his eyes, and a fold of fat underneath his chin. He must work on that, Harold thought; he didn't want to become obese. He turned off the tub, looking at the steam coming off the water, sighed, then climbed in.

The water was hot, but not scalding, as Harold sank down into the tub. He made an audible "Ahhh" sound as he settled into the water. Harold sat there for a moment, with a little half smile on his face, closed his eyes, breathed consciously and reached for one of his magazines

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Mark Waldman is a writer living in Los Angeles. He has had short stories and poems published in various magazines, and when not out enjoying Southern California with his daughter and wise Tonkinese Mink cat, Jack, he puts words together in short, hopefully meaningful sentences.  markgwaldman@gmail.com