It’s a chair for Christ’s sake,
although, not one
would have made.
Thick fog muffled outdoor sounds in the late night. No one heard the wrecker pull in and park behind the Mercedes sedan. The operator worked quickly, quietly. He jacked up the car, removed the mag alloy wheels, set the car down on cement blocks, and silently drove away.
The following day, a neighbor came home for lunch; saw the expensive, violated car sitting on blocks, knocked on his neighbors door and wondered whether anyone noticed the theft of their neighbors wheels. “What kind of neighborhood are we living in that something like this could happen?” It was near noon. He knocked on the owner’s door. She was shocked, but not entirely surprised to see her car sitting as it was.
Several months earlier, she financed the expensive wheels and tires, but failed to make payments. After many unsuccessful attempts to collect, the finance company repossessed their property.
The car owner shrugged her shoulders, “I didn’t make my payments, so they came and got ‘em. I’m getting them back, I just have to go down and make a payment.”
Dark nights still bring in thick fog, the atmosphere is still eerily quiet, and there is no vigilante group to keep watch for furtive thieves. The Mercedes owner has her wheels back and all is as it should be in the Deep South neighborhood.
A wee spot of brandy first thing in the morning puts a crisp focus on the entire day.
I thought, “Only two choices? Of the world’s ‘Great Religions’ my two choices are the plain vanilla denomination or hell.” Isn’t that some sort of rhetorical fallacy – only two choices? I’m sure there must be more.
I asked, “Why the simple white clapboard, non-denominational, nondescript church? What about one of the magnificent Gothic cathedrals? Perhaps I could visit a golden domed synagogue, or try an ancient Moorish mosque. Then again, I kind of liked the colorful Japanese Temples with the spinning prayer cylinders.”
She said, “Choose! Either this church where they are waiting for you or roast right here where demons will spend a thousand eternities devouring your soul.”
I said in my most assertive voice, “I much prefer my own church, ‘The Blessed Mother of the Sabbath Morning Sleep-In.’ By the way, you have a lovely voice”
She said, “Choose!”
I said, “How about we go uptown to the bar where they have 19 different craft brews on tap…I’ll buy. We can have a reasonable conversation and work this out in a more congenial setting.”
She said, “Choose!”
At that point, it occurred to me, “This little white church must have a back door.”