A few years ago, I went out with this man whom I differed with on some very fundamental issues. One of them being religion. He mentioned going to Easter services. I asked what that entails and had the concept of communion
explained to me. I told him I couldn't help but say, "Man. This Jesus is lip smacking good
." and ask for seconds. He didn't appreciate that.
Cut scene. Fade to Easter morn.
My gay roommate
surprised me with an interest in attending services. I thought of it as some sociological expedition. I only went to church for a few weeks when I was eight, and my church had Jesus colorforms
. He pulled out the gay yellow pages, found a gay church, and we were off.
I felt wildly out of place reading scripted chants I did not believe in.
When it came time for communion, Dean veered right to the transvestite priest. I veered left for the leather fag. He placed the cheap wine
soaked bread into my mouth and buried my face in his armpit. "God bless this sister…" And so on.
I took a moment to try and recall the etiquette on chewing. Finally, I bit down. I thought to myself,
"This Jesus is not lip smacking good."
It was terrible. I started laughing deep inside my belly. I was able to keep the laughter silent, but my shoulders kept bouncing. I felt bad enough involving myself in a tradition I have no right to. I was the last person up there with the entire congregation watching me. Even my roommate thought I was moved to tears. I just find myself too amusing for my own good.