Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Top o' the mornin', guvnah!
Okay, NEW PLAN. Oh… hello! How's it going? Good. Anyway, NEW PLAN. Today I decided that instead of never going back to the Victory Baptist Church again, I would go back to the Victory Baptist Church again. AND NO, IT'S WASN'T TO STEAL MONEY FOR A NEW iPHONE. I am so over that invention. The reason why I went back is because I'm still pretty miffed over not being physically kicked out of the church once, but TWICE. (Check out the last few blog posts for details. I'm too tired to recount those particular adventures.)
The way I saw it? If I could get through just one of Rev. Sparkle's (he's the reverend) sermons, then I WIN. (Don't ask me what I win. That's not the point.) Anywow, I came up with a devilishly clever plan to infiltrate the church. I would go… IN DISGUISE. So Karen (that's my lamb) and I went to the local costume shop, where I found us the most perfect disguises: An English Bobby (that's a policeman) and an organ grinder's monkey. (I was the Bobby.)
It was a perfect plan—or so I thought.
When we arrived at the church, people were filing in for the Wednesday evening sermon, so Karen and I attempted to blend in with the crowd. That's when that same mean Deacon who threw me out the two previous times saw me.
"Oh, for the love of… what are YOU doing back here?" he asked.
"Cor' blimey, guvnah!" I said in the British accent I'd been working on all afternoon. "Have you gone all wet in the knickers? I don't know you from the Queen!"
"You're that guy who dresses up like Jesus."
"No, I'm not, guvnah! I'm that guy that dresses up like a Bobby!"
"And what's your lamb wearing?" he asked.
"Have you gone snackers? Any bloomin' idiot can tell that's a lam…a MONKEY!"
"All right. That's it. You're out of here," he said as he grabbed me roughly by the arm.
"Now see here, my good man," I said haughtily. "Can't a bloke and his monkey visit the religious institution of his choice and bid your Lord Christ a fine how's-yer-mum?"
"Sure… a real English Bobby could—but you're a weird, crazy person who dresses up like Jesus if he were a Bobby. SO GET THE HELL OUT OF OUR CHURCH."
"PMF, guvnah! PMF!"
That's when he picked me up, and aimed me toward the street.
"WAIT! WAIT!" I yelled in my real voice.
The deacon put me down.
"OKAY. FINE," I said. "I'm not a visiting English Bobby with his monkey. I'm Jesus Christ, and this is my lamb Karen, and I don't understand why I'm not welcome in your church."
"Well, for one, you tried to mug our pastor, and for two, you scared the vacation bible school kids with a fake hook."
"Yah, yah, yah, besides that."
"Because," he said, closing the door behind him. "You're obviously a homo."
WTF? (PMF!) What is wrong with these church people? Besides the OBVIOUS fact I'm not a gay person, they really shouldn't be throwing people around who look like Christ (whether they also look homosexual or not). That's IT! I knew there was a reason I hated going to church, and now my suspicions have been proven correct. They are all a bunch of homo-Jesus-Bobby-phobes!