_____ _ _ ____ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ ____ | ____|_ _(_) |_ / ___|| |_ __ _ __ _ ___ | | ___ / _| |_ __ _| |_ | |_| |__ ___ | _ \ ___ ___ _ __ | _| \ \/ / | __| \___ \| __/ _` |/ _` |/ _ \ | | / _ \ |_| __| / _` | __| | __| '_ \ / _ \ | | | |/ _ \ / _ \| '__| | |___ > <| | |_ ___) | || (_| | (_| | __/ | |__| __/ _| |_ | (_| | |_ | |_| | | | __/ | |_| | (_) | (_) | | |_____/_/\_\_|\__| |____/ \__\__,_|\__, |\___| |_____\___|_| \__| \__,_|\__| \__|_| |_|\___| |____/ \___/ \___/|_| |___/by Peter Petrisko (email@example.com)
I'm writing up some "random bits" for my weblog, and thought some here might remember more details on this one.
In the account below, I mention Nick Ianuzzi. I do believe he was with us that night, but it could've been either Jim Lippard or Zak instead. So, to get around this lapse in memory, I've created a "composite character" whom I've called "Nick". Also, there might have been one or two others with us that night. Again, they, too, are "Nick" for story purposes.
Enjoy. And if you were there too, please let me know. I'll thank you now for any assistance you can provide... Thanks, "Nick".
Lo, those many years ago, when I was a teenager and still had the energy for tomfoolery, some friends and I went to visit 'The Door' one evening.
For those of you who don't know, 'The Door' is a hardcore born-again christian revival meeting establishment.
Just for the record, none of *us* were christians at the time.
Beside myself, there was Rod - a still-hippified
hippie from the 60s - his daughter, 15, and a
soft-spoken tech-type named Nick, age 28.
After parking, we went inside 'The Door'. It was packed, and all attention was on a stage in the front. There was a play going on, but as we had missed the beginning, I wasn't quite sure what the story was about. Apparently, from what I gathered from what we did see, some guy had died and they had put his body in a cave.
There was a huge, papier-mâché cave on-stage, with a big, Styrofoam boulder stuffed into the cave entrance.
Broadway, this was not.
The actors wandered about the stage, enacting bad acting. They all used a lot of "thees" and "thous" when they spoke. With the archaic language, it was very hard to follow, which made me think that maybe they were doing Shakespeare.
But I digress, for at that point, each of the four of us were approached by true-believin' audience members. Each person coming up to us pretty much matched our individual "types". An older, bearded guy for Rod. A young girl for his daughter. A teenaged guy for me. A clean-cut twenty something for Nick.
We were separated from each other. Now, I can't speak for the others, but I was witnessed to, which concluded with this earnest young man asking me, "Do you accept Jesus Christ as your lord and personal savior?"
"Listen, pal," I replied, "I stopped believing in Santa Claus when I was eight, and I don't plan on worshipping a 2,000 year old corpse."
Something similar must have transpired with my friends because, as with the guy who had been talking to me, all the Door-ites backed up. Slowly.
My friends and I beat a hasty retreat.
But this is where it gets weird.
Out in the parking lot, just after we got back in the van but before the doors were shut, a horde of Door-ites came up to the van and actually *started climbing in after us*. They kept saying things like, "Come back inside, Jesus loves you" or quoting random spooky bible quotes.
It was like something out of 'Night of the Living Dead', except that they didn't actually eat us.
Finally, I had had enough, so I announced in a loud voice, "Listen, we're running late. We've got to get to a Satanic High Mass, and if we don't leave right now we'll never make it in time to see the sacrificing of the virgin."
It was as if I had held up a cross amongst a group of vampires, the way those Door-ites scattered.
We drove off, but as we didn't really have a high mass to go to, we went to Denny's instead. I had the grand slam breakfast, which is available 24 hours a day.
= From the "Whatever Happened to?" file =
So, what happened to Peter? As Yoda would say, "Dashed optimism leads to cynicism. Cynicism leads to sarcasm. Sarcasm leads to 'The World According to Pete'."