I'm at my grandmothers house and the doorbell rings. It's Sunday and at the door are two young men dressed in full three piece suits. The temperature is at least 100 degrees and I'm dressed in a risky tank top and mini skirt. I'm sure these pre pubescent boys who are so worthy and knowledgeable of all life has to offer are a bit taken back. (Who is this whore at Fran Hatch's house? I wish my nurse looked like that!)
I invite them in, they have come to bring my grandmother the sacrament. They prepare a single bite size piece of Wonder bread and a simple sip of water, complete with the little plastic cup and trays they use in church. They read the prayer and proceed to serve, kindly asking me if I'd like some. I tell them no, me taking it might crack the tray.
Who are these kids? I ask them their last names, couldn't give a damn about the firsts. One of them I knew as a baby when I was forced to sit through four hours of worship. Surely there must be a better way to have spirituality in my childrens lives.
1 comment:
This is hilarious. Especially how you told me the boys last name! I remember his mama....
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