We all questioned the existence of God once, even the most devout Jehova's Witness. But how many of us really had the courage to custom-build a deity to our own specifications? The result of this nine-year-old fantasy: Bob, the Alien Barbecue God. Oooh, that looks so good in bold! As the driving force behind Bob's campaign, I was granted High Priesthood, with all the rights and powers I could ever desire. I had my own clergy, a large percentage of the tithe, and first crack at any hot blue alien chicks that came to earth to mate with a human(hey, I was 9!).
I remember my priestly vestments well: a paper grocery bag with holes cut out for sleeves. Bob didn't have a cross for his symbol, like that wussy Jesus guy. Nope, he had a nice thick T-bone steak, medium-rare. My first disciple was the Fat Kid. The Fat Kid and I made up a whole book of holidays and traditions to accompany our new religion, which had by this time acheived full-blown cult status with a complement of 6 members.
Mondays were holy days, typically known as Leftover, due to the bounty of tupperware-sealed food found in every fridge in America. Hey, anything for a day off school, right? The Summer Solstice was celebrated by running naked through sprinklers, as dictated by he who would later be known as the Gay Kid. Church was boring, so we threw that right out. No one felt like writing a holy book filled with long stories and stupid poems, so we annexed the Hardy Boys novels. Oh, to be a kid again.
As time passed, we all grew up. Bob lost worshipers to that sleeping giant, Christianity, and it was a sad time for his one faithful, I. I still remember him to this day, though, and I try my best to sacrifice some bit of animal flesh in His name on a monthly basis.
I leave you now with a haiku in praise to my great Lord from Mars, or maybe Uranus:
Six boys at the grill
What mom doesn't know won't hurt
"What is that smell?" |
