Ok here. It's quickly written and has horrible punctuation and grammar, but people are whining at my one line sarcastic posts so.. you brought it on yourselves!
It had been decided for months now. I, a worthless sinner who could only beg for Jesus’s forgiveness, was finally going to do the right thing. Who’d have thought salvation lay at the bottom of a 4 foot deep pool, in the hands of grossly overweight man who insisted on wearing a tight white t-shirt. Not me. Yet here I was, doing my duty for the cause, doing my duty for my parents, and doing my duty for the baptized girls this most holy decision opened doors to.
I had actually been nervous leading up to the baptism. The questions of course were an intellectual joke. These were the questions that separated the wheat from the chaff? The goats from the sheep? “His name was ADAM you idiots! The first man’s name was Adam!” I was slightly disillusioned. The call came, I had “passed” the test with flying colours. I glanced up from my book and winked at my dad, and went back to my reading. This July I was joining the ranks of the saved. Praise God, hallelujah. Dirty windows beware… here I come.
The months leading to the assembly I was a minor star in my congregation. Not Madonna stardom, more like the Monkies stardom, except I wrote my own music. The baptized girls took note of me, and I in turn took note of them taking note. I carried around the “big bible” (The small vandalized one I still kept in my pocket) I put my talk writing business on hold as I figured I should try at least to be moral for a few weeks. Many teenagers spent many sleepless nights in those days, forever remembered as, “The day the pen dried up” I was going to be saved damnit! I didn’t have time for the petty concerns of a few simpleton boobs who couldn’t write a 5 minute diatribe on Hezekiah’s influence on 10th grade smoking. The time had come for Naeblis to make it big. So I made it big.
Baptism day. The water waited for me. Almost ominous in it’s obvious holiness. I had brought my best swim trunks. I had opted for the no shirt look (the ladies were watching) and I had even scrounged up a song book that did not have alternate lyrics. The Greeks were well versed in who exactly was been aquatically raped that day. There were only 4 of us. Brave men all! God rest our souls, for soon were to sink into those murky depths, and emerge through the water new men! Leaving behind the filth that God had originally given us. “Yes!” I mumbled into the offered microphone. “I recognize myself as so on and so forth.” My mind drifted to lunch.
The number 2 stall had always been my favourite. The secret vandalism of my younger years remained hidden still underneath the toilet paper dispenser (Dan has a small wee-wee) And as I sat, half dressed, listening to the murmur of the crowd I realized one thing. Good God I was late!
Rushing out of the bathroom I walked down that red carpet.. the first dunkee already being dunked, my mother’s eyes alight in anger, my dad’s bemused smile hiding behind a camera. I shuffled my way towards that pool, eyes wandering slightly as I caught the glimpse of a possible Mrs. Naeblis, fingers tapping nervously on my thigh. And suddenly, I was there. Into that warm water I waded. Into the grip of the fattest, hairiest Greek I’ve ever seen. To my right flashed a camera and my head turned, the smile of a certain blonde causing a certain confusion in my loins. “Good God not now,” I frantically thought to myself, and as I plunged into that water, where thoughts of godliness and cleanliness were meant to play, in their stead loomed thoughts of a less pure nature.
I emerged from that water. Oh I emerged alright. And as I hunched over my shame and walked quickly towards the washroom I could only think one thing. “This can’t be a good sign.”