...and the acid flows like champagne.
When I was 8 or 9 I was an altar boy. One school day afternoon another boy and myself were excused from class to serve a funeral. It was the usual thing, swinging the incense around, singing, bringing the priest the wine and wafers.
When it came to the part where the priest was to bless the holy comestibles, my friend and I were kneeling at the side of the altar. Normally the priest would then have a wafer and a sip of wine. Not our guy, not that day.
He poured himself a big heapin' helpin' of the blood of christ and, in one stunningly fast motion, shot the entire goblet in a single gulp. I'm talking like this: pours, pauses, mutters, and WHIP-BAM. Up and down. I tell you, Indiana Jones' first girlfriend never did a shot so fast.
My friend and I, kneeling in our white robes, hands clasped round the wooden crosses on our necks, burst out laughing. We quickly stifled the sounds, but there was no stopping the laughter. All through the funeral mass, until we stood back up to walk the coffin out, the bereaved could plainly our shoulders shaking, our faces contorted and red. We could not stop.
Afterward we approached the priest. We were intimidated to say the least, and we expected the worst (well, not the worst, luckily this church was, shall we say, free of scandal). I'll never forget my stammering, shuffle-footed apology. "We're sorry, sir, it's just... well... you chugged it so fast..."
A look came across his face and saying nothing he sent us straight back to class. |
