A confession.
Scene: The chapel of St Colin. (Patron Saint of Blokes). The stained glass windows feature sports scenes and many of the wall hangings appear to be team banners. Book_eater makes his way to the confessional and sits down.
Book_eater: Forgive me father for I have sinned.
Priest: Tell me, my lad.
Book_eater: This week, father. I... I have asked for directions. um... Twice.
Priest: ..... (sound of shuffling)
BE: um... father?
Priest: Sorry, my boy, that was me reeling in shock. Directions, you say?
BE: um, yes. You see, I had to make a delivery, and I found it okay in the map, but when I got there, the place wasn't clearly marked, so...
P: You read the map?
BE: um. yes?
P: My son, this is quite serious. Does it not say in the book of Hezekiah, that a man ought not to seek guidance for his path from temporal sources, for the Lord has lain in the heart of every true man the knowledge of his steps? And that he who relies on the directions of his fellow man is a faithless girly-boy?
BE: um. does it?
P: Hell, I have no idea. My Bishop once told me that the Bible is our Instruction Book for life and I haven't read it since. Real men don't need instructions!
BE: Um. Oh yeah,... right, right. Don't need them. Yeah.
P: Oh. Don't tell me....
BE: Well, I wanted to change the pre-sets on the Van radio, and...
P: And you didn't think of just fiddling with it till you figured it out?
BE: Well, sure but it didn't get me anywhere and I was stuck on the sports talkback channel, and...
P: And you wanted to change it???
BE: shit um... yes?
P: Oh, my son. (sadly) I fear you linger on the brink. Turn back now or risk your manhood.
BE: (a little miffed) You know, that's a little rich coming from a guy in a dress.
P: I will have you know this is a Robe. Or a cassock... vestment? I really never figured out the difference, honestly.
BE: (mutters) mu-mu
P: Anyway, I'm wearing trousers under it, so it doesn't count.
BE: (darkly) Yeah, that look is sooo last season, you know.
P: You what?
BE: The whole trousers-under-a-skirt thing. Really big a while back, but... um. Anyway.
P: (disgusted) I bet you own a pink shirt, don't you.
BE: No!
P: uh-huh.
BE: It's... really more... peach.
P: (facepalm) Oh dear. You just keep digging yourself in deeper. I'm afraid your penance will be dire, my son.
BE: This is getting ridiculous. I mean, it was just a little transgression. I didn't expect the Spanish-
P: DON'T SAY IT! It's bad enough going all girly without going nerdy as well!
BE: Wait. Nerdy is bad, too?
P: You're asking for a Holy Wedgie, boy.
BE: (mutters) Beam me up, Scotty.
P: I HEARD THAT! EXCOMMUNICATION!
BE: Okay, I'm out of here. (Exits booth, heads for door)
P: (following) It's not too late! We've got the big game on pay-TV tonight! If you bring the beers, and...
BE: (exiting door) leaving now...
P: (horror) Wait, does that car have a pink stripe?
TheCar: What? Is he dissing my stripe?
BE: (sighs, gets in) Let's just get out of here.
P: (producing holy water and cross in the shape of goalposts) Avaunt! Avaunt! Aiieee!!!
BE: You know, that was kinda fun....
TheCar: Heh.
Yeah. It's been one of those wierd weeks.
Book_eater: Forgive me father for I have sinned.
Priest: Tell me, my lad.
Book_eater: This week, father. I... I have asked for directions. um... Twice.
Priest: ..... (sound of shuffling)
BE: um... father?
Priest: Sorry, my boy, that was me reeling in shock. Directions, you say?
BE: um, yes. You see, I had to make a delivery, and I found it okay in the map, but when I got there, the place wasn't clearly marked, so...
P: You read the map?
BE: um. yes?
P: My son, this is quite serious. Does it not say in the book of Hezekiah, that a man ought not to seek guidance for his path from temporal sources, for the Lord has lain in the heart of every true man the knowledge of his steps? And that he who relies on the directions of his fellow man is a faithless girly-boy?
BE: um. does it?
P: Hell, I have no idea. My Bishop once told me that the Bible is our Instruction Book for life and I haven't read it since. Real men don't need instructions!
BE: Um. Oh yeah,... right, right. Don't need them. Yeah.
P: Oh. Don't tell me....
BE: Well, I wanted to change the pre-sets on the Van radio, and...
P: And you didn't think of just fiddling with it till you figured it out?
BE: Well, sure but it didn't get me anywhere and I was stuck on the sports talkback channel, and...
P: And you wanted to change it???
BE: shit um... yes?
P: Oh, my son. (sadly) I fear you linger on the brink. Turn back now or risk your manhood.
BE: (a little miffed) You know, that's a little rich coming from a guy in a dress.
P: I will have you know this is a Robe. Or a cassock... vestment? I really never figured out the difference, honestly.
BE: (mutters) mu-mu
P: Anyway, I'm wearing trousers under it, so it doesn't count.
BE: (darkly) Yeah, that look is sooo last season, you know.
P: You what?
BE: The whole trousers-under-a-skirt thing. Really big a while back, but... um. Anyway.
P: (disgusted) I bet you own a pink shirt, don't you.
BE: No!
P: uh-huh.
BE: It's... really more... peach.
P: (facepalm) Oh dear. You just keep digging yourself in deeper. I'm afraid your penance will be dire, my son.
BE: This is getting ridiculous. I mean, it was just a little transgression. I didn't expect the Spanish-
P: DON'T SAY IT! It's bad enough going all girly without going nerdy as well!
BE: Wait. Nerdy is bad, too?
P: You're asking for a Holy Wedgie, boy.
BE: (mutters) Beam me up, Scotty.
P: I HEARD THAT! EXCOMMUNICATION!
BE: Okay, I'm out of here. (Exits booth, heads for door)
P: (following) It's not too late! We've got the big game on pay-TV tonight! If you bring the beers, and...
BE: (exiting door) leaving now...
P: (horror) Wait, does that car have a pink stripe?
TheCar: What? Is he dissing my stripe?
BE: (sighs, gets in) Let's just get out of here.
P: (producing holy water and cross in the shape of goalposts) Avaunt! Avaunt! Aiieee!!!
BE: You know, that was kinda fun....
TheCar: Heh.
Yeah. It's been one of those wierd weeks.