The Reclining Years
My wife and I are big fans of shows about other people doing productive things. Cooking, vacationing, home improvement, etc. If they had a show about two people relaxing on twin La-Z-Boy recliners watching shows like the ones we like to watch on our seventy-two inch plasma TV, we’d be a fan of that show as well. Hell, we’re so attached to our Lay-Z-Boys that one day we both sat down and realized the batteries in the remote were all wore out, so we just sat there watching the fish tank instead and counted how many dead fish were being chewed up by the living fish since neither one of us had been feeding them. In our defense, that mindlessness happened during a particularly intense Great British Baking Show binge. All these bakers carrying on like they was first in line to hand over a newborn born child if their puff pastry was not up to snuff.
Our devotion to the recliners and TV started soon after we retired. We realized life was too short to risk going outdoors and getting run over by the school bus, or worse yet, a steam roller, like the one that’s always doing in Wile E. Coyote. I don’t think the good lord’s intention was to make us suffer like He done on that cross. He done the suffering so we didn’t have to. Speaking of the lord, I wonder if His cross was put together using a tongue and groove method or simply nailed together in haste. And did they use a proper wood preserver? I saw an episode about that very thing on Fix It Up Ya Damn Self with host Judy Rocket. Man, there is something about a lady in a leather tool-belt that gets my bread basket all hot and buttered up. Judy was preserving her newly restored deck after it had severely caught fire while taping her summer show, Barbeque It Till It Don’t Squeal No More. A wild kegger of a show that got out of hand. But she gave me the idea that several coats of a good wood preserver would have helped the Jesus cross survive the weight of a good many more condemned saviors and their followers. These are things one ponders while reality-channel surfing on a Sunday morning.
Our favorite show of late is Get Holy with The Reverend Moxey, and you’re probably wondering if two devoted Christians like ourselves ever go to church at all. The answer is yes, and no. You see, my wife and I are ordained ministers, anointed into the ranks by the good graces of Reverend Josiah Moxey of the Holy Order of Internet Pastors. ‘Our home is our church, and our church is our home,’ is what we tell any busybody Jehovah’s Witness that comes banging on our door. You might think we’d be in cahoots with the Jehovah’s, since we seem to be rooting for the same team, but that ain’t even close to the truth.
Them Jehovah’s is mindless gutter snipes! Roaming the streets and banging on doors like common hooligans. Really burns my toast every time I think about how they kidnapped and converted our mail lady Sadie. I know it sounds crazy. But it happened. And not two weeks after she was reported missing Sadie was back at work and stuffing our mailbox to the hilt with Jehovah trash news and wearing an ‘I love Jehovah‘ button where her ‘God Bless America’ pin used to be. And it’s all the doings of them and their Witnesses! It seems to be their mission in life to drive good folks from their homes, convert them, and then steal the deeds to all those poor folks houses. It’s like that movie The Stepford Wives. For all I know we may be the only house in the neighborhood that ain’t clogging our toilets with Jehovah dung.
It’s a good thing we got a sideline to help keep our mind straight. As ordained ministers we are fully authorized to perform marriages, baptisms and exorcisms. And as fully authorized exterminators in the name of Jesus it is our sworn duty to rid the world of this wretched infestation! You see, once these Jehovah get a foot in the door they’re like so many cockroaches. They’ll breed in your dampened basement, hatch a few more Jehovahs, and before you know it you'll walk into your kitchen one morning and they’ll be gathered around your kitchen table passing the pancake syrup.
Well, not in my kitchen they ain’t! You see, Peg and I have already put some traps into action. You may think bear traps is much too extreme, but then you ain’t ever met the Jehovah’s in our neighborhood. Aggressive would be a very tame description.
But like I was saying, we set the traps in the basement and came up winners the very first night. It was Peg who heard it first. The sharp snap of the trap. The mournful yelp of the captured Jehovah. The endless moaning, and then the dreadful howl from the beast within the Jehovah. Calling out to its brethren to come hither.
It got so disruptive that we had to set the volume on the TV to high so we could continue watching The Great British Baking Show. It was a real hoot tonight. Paul Hollywood had just broke a tooth on a chocolate eclair and was about to take his first swipe at a baker. Julie Primrose of Peckham. A seventeen year old University student and animal shelter volunteer.
In the morning we’ll drive the Jehovah Witness to the river and set it free. We are Christians, you know.
Picture courtesy of wiki commons: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:MR._AND_MRS._DWIGHT_ROGERS,_A_RE...