I went into the Cathedral on a whim. I wanted to sell the priest some Bibles. I didn’t know the Catholics use a different Bible though. An apendiums. Apendiana. The Word of God with a sidecar.
“So, I’m shit out of luck here?”
The priest gave me a look.
“Sorry, Padre. Shoot out of luck? Stuff out of luck?”
“Of course.” He blinked at me through his glasses, a pair of wire rims I’ve only ever seen on bankers in movies. “You are welcome to stay for Mass, if you wish. In ten minutes. Now, excuse me.”
“Okay, maybe. Maybe. Thanks Padre.” In ten minutes, I could offload my entire inventory to the rock-n-roll church around the corner. The Dewy Awakening or some shit. Except their pay is shit and they pass the Bibles out with bug juice at their weekly soup kitchen.
Back in the Cathedral, little old ladies filed in with little old men on their arms and they knelt quick in the aisle and kissed their knuckles before they sat. Up front, Jesus stared down. Fixed to the cross, this big wooden Jesus. Somebody hand-carved that thing and painted the feet red. It must’ve taken ten guys to hang it. Music swelled from somewhere—from everywhere—and I watched the Jesus watch everybody. Hollow eyes over everything. An inspection. Who isn’t here? Have we all taken our seats? Do I have your undivided attention?
Image credit: Dali, Salvador. Crucifixion (Corpus Hypercubus) 1954, oil on canvas, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.
“music swelled from somewhere-from everywhere-and i watched the Jesus watch everybody” so good