I’m not a religious man.
Mainly this is because my parents WERE religious and therefore I got dragged to church every friggin’ Sunday for an hour when I really should have been watching Starblazers instead of trying to figure out what yoga position I was supposed to be in because if you’ve EVER been to a Catholic church you know the whole thing goes like this:
My mother, in true Catholic-mom fashion, would threaten me whenever I did something that she didn’t want me to do using God’s Almighty wrath as her leverage.
Moms: cockblocking kids' fun since FOREVER.
Typically I blew all this stuff off because as an only child I knew I could get away with a shit ton because if I ever ran away she had NO BACKUP KIDS.
That’s why you always have at least two kids, people.
Backup plan in case one of them doesn't work out.
So my mother preached and preached about how one day God would punish me and I kept on keeping on…
Until the day after Halloween when I was about 8.
You see, I had dressed up as Frankenstein or something using one of those cheap plastic masks with the eyeholes cut out and I really really wanted to go out the next day to play while I was wearing it.
This is bullshit.
I was undaunted, though. Seriously - who would expect a kid in a Frankenstein mask AFTER Halloween?!
So I pressed..
OH COME ON.
Seriously. It was, like, 1976 and I'd like to think that God was busy with the first Ebola outbreak in Africa or the debate of VHS vs. Betamax so I’m PRETTY SURE he had better things to do than actually punish a fat kid running around in a Frankenstein mask.
With complete disregard for my mother’s repeated admonitions, I slipped on the mask and bolted out my side door with all the amazing crystal-clear peripheral vision of a pirate wearing two eye patches.
As the door closed behind me..I could hear my mother yelling out..
YES! God will punish me, mom?! HA, I say!
I laugh in the face of danger!
God will punish me.
I’m not sure what happened next but I distinctly remember somehow tripping on the very top step of our solid concrete stairs THAT HAD NOTHING ON THEM and skidding - forearms and palms first - down each of the 6 steps while my field of vision quickly changed from 'looking down my driveway' to 'stairs-sky-stairs-sky' until I landed in a fat bloody heap at the bottom.
God actually punished me. Just like mom said.
There will be no living with the woman after this.
Monday, March 28, 2011
I’m not a religious man.