We all questioned the existence of God once, even the most devout Jehovah'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
. 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?"