Monday, April 1, 2024

He's Done Stopped Preachin'

My friend Mark Milliorn this week wrote a scathing criticism of our election system, both parties and then he started naming names of people's favorite presidential candidates. I don't know about New Mexico, but in certain places back in Texas, that sort of rash talk could get you a load of buckshot in the seat of your pants and from more than one direction. It's reminded me of a story.

Aunt Bertha and the Preacher

 One of my great aunts, a dedicated church-goer, used to make expressions of encouragement to the preacher during the service. She'd practically sing out the Amens and Hallelujahs. She also used a little bit of snuff on occasion. This particular Sunday, the preacher started in on the sins of the flock and he was getting serious.

"All of you out there that are drinking that demon rum are on the high road to hell!" he thundered.

"Amen!" enthused Aunt Bertha.

"And all you out there using that maryjewana or messin with them fetameans....well, I hate to say it but you're looking at getting an eternal hotfoot!" The preacher warmed to his work.

Aunt Bertha sang out, "Preach it brother!"

"All you smokers out there, slaves to that vile nicotine, well you're gonna be able to light them Winston's and them Lucky Strikes off your own hair."  Oh he was stepping on some toes now and Aunt Bertha mightily approved.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaamen!" she glissandoed from an alto to a soprano in one long shout of praise.

"And the devil has prepared coals of fire for the beds of those who's lips drool black tobacco spit, chewing that evil chewing tobacco!" the reverend by this point in his sermon was filled with the spirit.

"Oh, brother, praise the Lawd Jesus, tell em all," Bertha, her voice strained by then managed to croak.

"And I am here to tell you," the preacher raised his hands toward heaven.

"Oh, I know that Gawd is preaching through you, reverend!" Bertha shook her head and raised her hands too.

"That the Lord does not look kindly, nor will He allow into his kingdom," the pastor affixed the amen pew with a fierce glare and continued dramatically, "He will stop cold at the pearly gates, those who partake of snuff!" He shook his head sadly. "For there will be no spittoons in heaven."

Aunt Bertha stopped in mid-hallelujah and fell silent. Then she turned to her sister, Aunt Pearl and in a shocked whisper said, "Well damn. He's done stopped preaching and done started meddlin'!"

Poor Mark. He's definitely done started meddlin', poor boy.

© 2024 by Tom King

No comments: