So a kindly old lady asked me if I went to church. She seemed so sweet until I realized she'd picked my pocket of two dollars and thirty-seven cents, and my buy one, get one free coupon for jumbo fries at Lard World.
Yes, I used to go to church. I went Christmas, Easter, and whenever I felt shaky about my football wagers.
My last time was halfway through the season, and I was nervous about giving nine points to the Dolphins against the Patriots in Miami.
I sat down in the pew. I’m not sure why they called it that. Maybe there was too much silent farting going on.
It all began with the Introit. Introit is church talk for opening song. I once asked Pastor Birdshoe why the closing song wasn’t called Detroit. He just mumbled something – might have been in Latin.
Pastor Birdshoe welcomed us and made some announcements. I saw that the next song was supposed to be, On a Hill Far Away. I’d fallen for that prank too many times, so I raise my hand.
“Yes, Brother Headley,” said Pastor Birdshoe, “you may use the bathroom. You don’t have to ask permission.”
“Not this time, Pastor B.S.,” I said. “I wanted to make a request for the next song.”
“What is your request?”
“How about Jesus Is My Snow Tires?”
“I’m afraid we don’t know that one and it’s not in the hymnal.”
“We could hum.”
Later we had the offering.
I put in my usual note – “No money, but I’m “PAYING” attention.” I know Pastor Birdshoe loves that one.
Pastor B.S. preached out of Daniel. The text was something about three good Jewish boys telling the King of Babylon to stick it – then getting fired. They must have had a worthless shop steward. I love Birdshoe’s sermons – they always give me a chance to catch a few winks and I try not to snore too loud.
I got my “blessed assurance” about my football worries by their choice of closing hymn (I still say they should call it Detroit.)
We all bowed our heads and Pastor Birdshoe blessed us: “Go in Peace, Go in Joy, Go in Love…”
“And Go New England,” I added. “Cover the spread against the Fins!”
Two weeks later I had Jacksonville plus three in Indy, so I went back. They’d moved the church. There wasn’t even a note.
Just like the last church…