I'm in my office at the church when, all of a sudden, the Bishop comes in and starts ragging my case.
He says, "You spend too much time sitting around the Church during those times when there aren't monsters around. You simply idle around, padding your hours and taking away valuable money that could go towards the Church."
"Hey, I need this time. I use it to meditate so that, I don't know, I can be at top mental, physical and spiritual condition," I says, "And the best way for me to meditate is to play Solitare for three hours."
"I know of those monks who use solitare as a way to increase their communion with God."
"Well, that's cause I'm smarter than them."
"Computer games are not a meditation aid." The Bishop retorts, "That's it, you are now teaching Sunday School."
"But that's when The Simpsons is on."
"The class is at 7 am."
"No, that's not going to work. That's my sleepy time."
So now, I'm teaching Sunday School, I guess. Come Sunday at 7 am, the kids pile in.
"You don't look too good, mister," says one of the kids.
"That cause I drank too much of the Blood of Christ last night," I says.
Then there is an awkward pause, of lets say, five minutes.
"Hmm?" I says, "so how's that whole kid thing working out for you guys."
"Good," says another kid.
"That's super." Another five minutes go by.
"So, you guys still pooping yourselves or have you gotten to the toilet stage, yet?"
"I wear big boy underwear."
"Underwear, that's great, Walter," I say.
"My name's not Walter," says the kid.
"Yeah, I know. But I'm bad with names so from now on, all of you are named Walter. Except for the girls, your name is Walterette."
"The Bible says respect your elder, so you'd best wizen up, Walterette," I says, "Alright, so let's read some of that Bible, now. How about some Matthew?"
"My name is Matthew!" I shoot the kid a glassy death stare, "I mean, it's Walter."
"So there is this dude named Abraham and cause he loves God so much, he is one damn good farmer. Even though he is really old, he can still get it up and God grants him a kid after he is really nice to some travelers who stop by. Abraham even goes wit the travelers to this place called Sodom, but they are all sinners there so God wants to blow the crap out of the town."
Some of the Walters gasp.
"What?" I axe.
"You said the c-word!"
"You lying dick, I didn't say cunt. So God wants to blow the fuck out of the town but will relent if Abraham can find 50 valorous dudes. Abe is able to jew God down to only 10 dudes but, just like modern-day England, there aren't even 10 souls worth saving," I says.
One of the Walters raises his hand and says, "My dad said that God destroyed Sodom because men were touching each other in the pee-pees."
"Yeah, I know your dad, he is just a homophobic prick," I respond, "So Abraham is just chilling with his son, Isaac, who is named after the bartender from Love Boat. Then, God tells Abraham that he should sacrifice his son to the Lord."
"Why would God make Abraham kill his child?"
"Cause He wanted to test his faith."
"But, my parents love me, they would never kill me, even if God told them too."
"Naw, they are good Catholics, so they would follow God's will. In fact, any of your parents are probably willing to sacrifice you in a moment's notice, if it's what God wants to see."
Walterette runs out of the room crying but I keep on talking, "So back to Abraham. He's all set to cut into his only son when God comes out and tells Abraham that he's been Punk'd and that Isaac will instead be the king and shit."
"Why is God so mean," asks Walter, "If people are nice, they should just go to Heaven, they shouldn't have to prove their fate."
"Yeah, that's a nice idea, in theory," I says, "But unfortunately, the Bible says different, so you are wrong."
"This Bible is stupid, in fact, this whole church is stupid," says Walter.
"Oh, that's it, you little heathen. Don't you appreciate the fact that the Church saves your life every day?"
"What, do you mean in some sort of existential soul-saving sort of way?"
"No, not no exit tent-aul whatever. I mean, we risk out necks going out there and Killin' Monsters."
"That doesn't make any sense," says Walterette.
So I proceed to tell the non-believer a story that had happened the night before. See, let's say that a comely young lass is running down the street being chased by five werewolves. They manage to corner her in a dark alley.
Slowly, the lead werewolf comes up to her and says, "Tonight we shall feast upon your body!"
From the shadows, they hear a whisper, "I don't know about that!" And the werewolves start shuddering in fear
"It cannot be," says one werewolf who is promptly shot dead in the face with a silver bullet.
"But how did he find..." says another as he is shot mid-sentence.
"Hold your ground, denmates. He is but one man, we can fight him together," says the lead werewolf, "Denmates?" Oh yeah, by this point all of the other werewolves are dead.
Then, who walks into the light, none other than... um, me. The lead werewolf continues, "It doesn't matter, even if you can stop us, there is no way you can fight the onslaught of the armies of the damned! Mankind will perish."
"Oh yeah," I says, "Well, you suck." Then I chop off his head with a machete.
Walterette interrupts my story by saying, "You couldn't kill five werewolves. You are too fat."
"This isn't fat. It's just jiggly muscle."
So back to my story...
"Thank you for saving me," says the girl who was being chased.
"Don't worry about it," I says, "It's my part-time job."
"Well, thanks, mysterious stranger," she says as I stare at her big ole titties.
Then, I'm interrupted again.
"What are titties?" axes Walter.
"Those are the things you kids suck from to get milk. I like em too," I says.
"Titties are milk cartons?" says Walterette.
"I'm titties-intolerant," says Walter.
"Okay, you are dumb," I says. Walter was no help so I turn to one of the other kids, "Hey, Walter, you know what I'm talking about, your mom has a killer rack."
"My mom says that you are creepy," says Walter.
Alright, once again with the story.
"So... bet you have to get on your way to keep on fighting evil where ever it may lurk," says the girl.
"Naw, I've got some time to hang out."
"But this is the time in which you are supposed to run away into the night leaving me here to swoon over the mysterious hero who saved me from a perilous fate."
"Well, you standing here and swooning is good and all but it really doesn't lead to me getting a whole lot of action."
"No, that's not the point. See, I'm supposed to keep getting into life-threatening situations and then you have to continually save me. With every encounter, my interest in you will grow and then I will track down small tidbits of info about your life. We will slowly have more and more sexual tension until that magical moment when you will finally reveal your secret identity to me."
"Okay," I says, "We could do that or we could just go get some pie down at Perkins and then do it."
"God, you are a shitty hero. I'm going home."
"So kids," I says to the class, "the moral of the story is that you should wait until after the pie to give the offer of noncommittal sex so that way, no matter what, you at least got a good slice of pie out of the deal. Alright, for the next class, hmm, I don't know what I want to cover. So just read the whole Bible."
I'm starting to get into this whole teaching thing, then the parents come to pick up their kids.
"I'm thirsty, can we pick up some titties from the store?"
"Daddy, why do you want to kill me?"
Yeah, so I guess I'm not teaching Sunday School anymore.
|© 2002-2008. Blurty Journal. All rights reserved.|