Sunday, October 30, 2005


If memory serves, I attended a Hallowe’en party at Jacob (aka "the Professor") and Kelly’s place last night. It was a wonderful evening, due in large part to the generosity and good vibes of our hosts, who rock without parallel.

The party was well-stocked with good things to eat, drink, and smoke, which softened the edges of the evening into a pleasant blur. I traded political barbs with Abraham Lincoln; I caught up on the latest gossip with a coven of sultry witches; I took turns peeing in a sumptuous bathroom with a blue-winged fairy. I may even have been tied up by a priest, but I’m not entirely sure.

After a quick nightcap at the local diner, I staggered home to await the onset of a colossal hangover. It came, surely enough, at 9:00 AM, when a sorry excuse for a man decided to idle his motorcycle directly in front of my bedroom window. Suddenly awake, I cursed the man, the motorcycle, and God, whom I imagined was punishing me for engaging in S/M with a man of the cloth. Undeterred, the motorcycle rumbled loudly on.

My temples throbbing, I pulled the covers up over my head to block out the noise and light. The cats took this as an invitation to play cat and mouse with my face, which they proceeded to do with great vigour. In desperation, I slid further under the covers and assumed the fetal position, whereupon I willed myself to lose consciousness, by suffocation if necessary.

After what seemed like an eternity, the man and the motorcycle roared away, and I fell gratefully back to sleep. In my dreams, the motorcycle man was beaten senseless by a blue-winged fairy, and officially pronounced dead by Abe Lincoln. Serves the bastard right...


God said...

Dear Vila H.,

The clergyman by whom you were tied up was a cardinal, not a priest.

Yours Truly,

Minister of Hierarchies,
Director of Human Affairs,
Holy Perpertuator of the Status Quo.

P.S. There seems to have been a clerical error. The biker was, for your entertainment, Divinely summoned to intercept you on the way to the depanneur to buy smokes at 9 P.M., not A.M. He was Our way of thanking you for alerting Us to the whereabouts of Beauvoir, Ginsberg, et al., who had apparently escaped Eternal Damnation and entered your Unconscious.

Vila H. said...

Dear God,

With respect, it was a priest who bound me, not a cardinal. The cardinal came after me, it is true, but I managed to deftly elude his crimson clutches. Thinking myself safe, I momentarily turned my back, which was a terrible mistake, for the priest came up on me from behind (the wily devil!). Before I knew it, he had knotted the rope firmly around my wrists, and though I strained valiantly against my bonds, I could not save myself.

Will this require a confession? Please advise.

Your humble heretic,

Fr. O'Hoolahan said...

Dear Vila H.,

This is the late Father O'Hoolahan, your Heavenly confessor and intermediary to GOD (since this place is filled with Christians, no one can retire for all of eternity lest any sort of welfare state emerge). At the moment, we are working on the assumption that blogs are the atheist's confessional. Thus, you have already confessed. Say three Hail Marys, my child, and continue doing your good works, like feeding the hungry--especially your friend James--delicious food. I hope you will continue to feel uncontrained in confessing your sinful clerical fantasies to me. I am, of course, a professional.

Yours in Christ,

Fr. O'Hoolahan

P.S. We are sharing a dial-up connection up here, so it may take some time for your confession to be processed.

Vila H. said...

Dear Father O'Hoolahan,

Thank you for your very prompt reply. Reading your letter, I feel myself suddenly overcome as though by fever--my skin is flushed, my body aches, I can scarcely fill my lungs with breath...

Um, wait, it actually is a fever. (*cough*) Could I possibly get back to you?

Hail Mary,

PS. If you see James, whom I suspect is also on your Eternal Damnation list, please tell him I say hello.