The Liquor Talking

Look, dummies. It’s about beating Obama. I can’t be alone being pretty darned fed up with the attacks and negativity. How bad is it gonna be when it’s just one of these guys, head-to-head with the Obama machine? It’s time to get out a message of optimism.

Get on it.

For about the first four years of his life, everyone thought my brother had some kind of speech disorder.

He never uttered a word.

Mom had taken him to a plethora of specialists on the subject, but none could figure out the trouble. Whenever he wanted something, he would simply point to it and make a grunting sound. He could hear just fine and judging from the way he’d squall whenever I did something he didn’t like, his vocal chords worked just fine. He scored very high on intelligence tests and was already able to read.

It was a mystery. My folks had pretty much come to accept the condition.

One morning at breakfast, my brother looked up from his plate and announced; “This toast is burnt.”

Naturally, mom and dad freaked out! “You CAN talk? You’ve been able to talk all this time? We’ve had you to doctors all over this state, trying to find out what’s wrong! Now you sit there and say “This toast is burt?!!”

Why?

My brother looked first at dad, then at mom and replied; “Up until now, everything has been fine.”

Actually, my brother has always been talkative. From the time he was a small boy, he’d always wanted to be a preacher. Once or twice a week, he would drag out the pulpit that he’d made from cardboard boxes and set up “church” in our garage.

My mission was to round up a congregation for him to preach to.
My henchmen colleagues and I would roam the neighborhood, rounding up everyone who wasn’t bigger than us and press them into attending my brother’s church. We didn’t do this out of any particular religious ferver, but mostly because it was a great way to be shed of my little brother for a spell. My buddies all also has little brothers and sisters and my brother’s church was a pretty good way to ditch them for an afternoon.

He eventually grew up and became a preacher. His first preaching job was at a small congregation in a farming community in Kansas. As a rookie preacher, he always felt a bit envious over some of the stories the older preachers could tell of their experiences. He eventually commented on it during one of his prayers.

God was in one of his “Ask and ye shall receive” moods.

He was conducting his first wedding. The couple were a pair of kids who’d grown up in the congregation. They were the offspring of parents who had also grown up in the congregation and by all accounts, were good, decent kids. Nothing unusual in the pre-marital counseling sessions and it looked to be a pretty normal wedding.

Just as they got to the part about “If anyone has just cause why these two should not be engaged in holy matrimony…” a young man in the back of the church jumped up and proclaimed; “I have cause! The bride is pregnant with MY child!”

While the honored guest were freaking out, my brother brought the bride, groom and objecting guy into his office. Here it was confirmed that she was with child, it was not of the groom, but the groom was aware of it and willing to marry her anyway. The objecting party was content that honor had been served and they went back in and lined back up.

So, my brother continued; “If any else has just cause…” only to be answered by a young woman in the back; “I object! I’m pregnant with the groom’s child!”

Okay, back to the office they go. Here it was confirmed that yes the objecting girl was pregnant, it was the groom’s child, the bride was aware of it and was still wanting to marry him.

Everyone again returned to the auditorium and lined back up. Just as my brother was getting ready to ask the question for the third time, he looked at one of the elders, who shook his head.

The wedding proceeded without further incident.

I kinda imagine that during his next conversation with the Almighty, my brother rescinded the request concerning having experiences to tell stories about.