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Tuesday, October 28, 2003
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MY DINNER WITH DR. REVEREND
It was the sound that struck me first. A low moaning that spilled out from behind the door of Dr. Reverend's humble abode. A familiar chill ran down my spine as it always did as I approached his home. The Doctor had long been my "spiritual adviser" and given recent events, my spirit desperately needed advice. I see the Doctor no more than three times a year but he is skilled in sensing my times of spiritual crisis. He then, without fail, contacts me and calls upon me to visit his home.
Needless to say, this way a time of profound crisis.
I knocked upon the door and was greeted with the Doctor's usual bellow of "the fucking door's unlocked! Do I need to open it for you too, you useless creiten?" I entered cautiously and looked into the living room. The Doctor was holding his houseboy Fairney, an Asian child-no taller that 4'5" with 4 foot arms, in the air by his throat. The Doctor's other hand held a Bible so tightly that his knuckles turned white. The Doctor glared wordlessly at Fairney before tossing him like a rag doll into a corner of the apartment where he remained cowering for the duration of my visit.
Although the Doctor is a man of means he lives modestly in a small two-bedroom apartment in the downtown area of our city. He has lived here for several years and it is here he is comfortable. Much of his staggering wealth is spent networking as many computers together as the tiny space will accomodate. I counted no fewer than 14 computers in the living and dining rooms alone. An abacus balanced precariously on the stack of Gideon's Bibles pilfered from hotel rooms across the southern United States where the Doctor vacations to unwind by discharging firearms.
The Doctor muttered, "You can't find decent help these days. Decent white folk have priced themselves out of the houseboy market. It's a shame, a damn shame." The Doctor then spit at Fairney who simpered in the corner. He then turned to me.
"You been reading your fucking Bible, skippy?" Our conversations always started this way although he always knew the answer.
"No, Doctor, no I haven't." I answered slowly. He could me off before I could finish my sentence, "No, I don't suppose you have the time, do you, boy? So what are you doing with your time? Playing with your cock or writing on your blog? Your cock and that blog are keeping you on the wrong side of GOD! You know that, don't you, skippy?"
He was right. My almost chronic masturbation and constant blogging were the sources of my poor condition. My health had deteriorated badly since the last time I had darkened Doctor Reverend's door. My weight had dropped to its lowest level since I had been in college, some ten years before. None of this escaped the Doctor's notice.
"You look like shit, skippy. You want a sacrament?" he asked and I nodded gratefully. Mrs. Reverend reached into the refrigerator and handed my a cold beer wordlessly. "I like her" the Doctor explained, "She does what she's told.She knows I can have her deported back to Missouri if she doesn't." The Doctor looked at his wife as he asked "You don't want to be sent back to Missouri with the Darkies, do you?" Mrs. Reverend shook her head violently. "I know you don't, now get back in your room."
Mrs. Reverend exited as silently as she had entered.
The Doctor and I sat at the dining room table which was littered with computer manuals, religious tracts and angry denunciations from Revenue Canada. The Doctor began eating from a bowl of chili his wife had laid on the table for him. He began his sermon, "My wife makes a good bowl of chili. It's better when she thinks its for the guests though. She lacks discipline but I'm going to get her right with God, just you watch."
"Let me guess, you broke up with your girlfriend, right? It's better that way, California is no place for a man like you. That is a state of gutter religions. The Bang Bus won't even go there and if I know anything about you, it's that you shouldn't be anywhere the Bang Bus won't go. You won't find God without the Bang Bus will you, skippy? You know that I usually feel that Serbians are human garbage but one of then taught me of the Bang Bus and the Bang Bus will bring us all to Jesus. You know that, don't you? Good."
"Why do you look so sullen and sad? You miss that woman? I'll get you a new one! There's an old Chinese woman with a limp who always gets in my way on the subway, I'll send her to you tomorrow. She'll fix you but good. You like the mud people, you'll love this one. You'll be so happy, just wait. Then you'll be ready for Jesus."
"But it's deeper than a woman, isn't it? You been reading the Koran again? I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU NOT TO READ THOSE RAGHEAD BOOKS! Next you're going to think you're some Zen Master Buddhist and get some poontang that way. You don't have the strength, the cock or the accent for that, skippy. It starts with the Koran...you join a "religious militia in Afghanistan....the want you to blow up a Buddha and you can't. You can't because you're weak! Then you love the Buddha. You want to be the Buddha. But you can't. You can't be the Buddha. You....can't....be....the Buddha."
"The last time I went shooting in Arizona, the guy with the guns told me that 'the Jews are using the blacks to muscle the white man into submission.' You know who that man was, skippy? That was Jesus! Me and Jesus were in the desert, blasting away and discussing the fall of decadent capitalism ever read Marx, skippy? Of course you haven't. But I'll tell you this, you'll never get on the Bang Bus unless you do some serious learning. And if you miss the Bang Bus, you'll never get to fire shotguns in the desert with Jesus! Only the Bang Bus will get you to that desert. You don't want to miss that bus, do you skippy? DO YOU?"
I shook my head violently like Mrs. Reverend had not five minutes earlier.
"Of course you don't. Now get the fuck out of my apartment and read your Bible. I need to finish my chili."
I'll always remember my dinner with Doctor Reverend.
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