Church By Kevin Kling
Kevin Kling

 

I remember on Sunday Mornings I would wake up to the tiawana brass blaring on the living room stereo. My dad’s idea of revelry was Herb Alpert. And I’d wake up and there’d by my brother lying in his twin bed that was identical to my twin bed with his Roy Rodgers blanket that used to be my Roy Rodgers blanket. And there was that char mark at the end of the bed. That char mark where one day id said, “No, Steve. Beds don’t burn. No a bed cant burn. A bed is too complex. Paper burns and wood burns because they’re simple, but a bed just has too many components.” So we wadded up three Sunday papers, shoved them under the bed, lit it, and BLUAHHH There went that theory.
But now it’s Sunday morning and we wake up and put on our identical suits and we go into the bathroom where my dad is waiting with his hands in the air in the surgical position. Oh buy they’re not scrubbed, no they’re laden with brill cream because Saturday night was batch night and we went to bed with our hair wet and woke up with some real wild doos. And dad was gonna tame it down with the dab that did it. So into the tops of our heads he’d go. And then he’d take out that personal plastic pocket sized comb, and start going through our hair. “Ahhhh ahhhhhh!” Now he was a farm boy so he was ploughing. Digging little red furrows in the tops of our heads. And then whap whap he’d put that comb away and go for the top button in our shirts with that stubby farm boy finger, in between our collar and our necks. “Ahhh!” he’d be cutting off my air and I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t breathe, and then finally he’d get the button and pull his hands out and…I'd breathe in, but it was solid brill cream. And off id go. Off id go into the ether. To that place I tried to get back to many times in the 70s. And down id come. And there was dad he’d scoop me up, scooped up my brother, ran us out to the car and sit us in the back seat, next to my sister Laura. And then he’d crawl in front “HONK HONK Dagflabbed, Dora! HONK Dagfalbbed! HONK HONK Dagflabbed Dora!” and my mom’s in side putting on the roast and putting in the potatoes. And shed come out with her apron on to show shed worked right up to the last minute. Then wad that apron up, through it in the yard, get in the car, shoot my dad a look, and BAM we were in third gear by the end of our driveway.
Now I don’t know whether it’s because we’re barometers for the tension of the morning or that we’re in a confined space. Whatever it is before I know it my hand is wadded up into a fist and pounding my brother in the ear. BAM BAM BAM. Whenever we were in a confined space we would fight. I remember we had this television with a TV in front and in front of the TV was the one good seat, and every other seat, was a lesser seat. And I’m sitting in front of the TV with my fat head blockin the screen and I turn to my brother, “Ya know, Bewitched has got to be the best show on TV” I turn back to Bewitched. I turn back to my brother, “ya know, this new Daryn isn’t as good as the old Daryn. I think the old Daryn was more funny and more handsome” and my brother can’t take it. He gets up and BAM! He kicks me in the back and I’m right on his heels. Now our house forms a perfect oval racetrack going from the TV room to the living room to the kitchen to the hallway and I’m right on his heels. Now our house formed a perfect oval racetrack going from the TV room to the living room to the kitchen to the hallway and I’m right on his tail and every time we hit the kitchen my dad says, “Dagflabbed, you boys!” We go around again, “Dagflabbed I thought I told you!” We go around again. Where’s dad? There he is, right at my heels. Now it’s me my brother and my dad. We get back to the living room. WHOOP My brother slips on the carpet, hits his head on the coffee table. He goes one way, a piece of his ear goes another! I go for the ear. I know somebody will get him. We rush to the emergency room and they say “Hello Kevin Hello Stephen” We’re on a first name basis with the emergency room. I hold up the piece of the ear to my dad. He says. “What the hell is that thing?” I tell him. He says “throw that dagflabbed thing away” But now the ear’s healed up really good and I’m pounding on it in the back seat. BAM BAM BAM BAM and my sister’s screaming “Oh the boys are fighting! The boys are fighting! I can’t do anything” I don’t know what it is she had to do, but apparently she couldn’t do it while we were fighting. My dad says “boys knock that off.” Now that’s warning number one. That means nothing. BAM BAM BAM BAM “Boys I said knock that off!” That’s warning number two. That means a lot but now we’re too far into it. BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM “Boys I said knock that off! “That’s warning number three. That means action so we stop. “Dad we’re done. Look. See? We’re pals. Too late. By this point dad has gotten out the claw. And the claw is this human-looking hand on the end of his arm that comes into the back seat with the strength of ten in search of human flesh. In search of our human flesh! So we’re dodging our human flesh, trying to keep it out of the way of the claw. And pretty soon I realize. “Okay, that claw’s not going to stop until it gets some human flesh. Now that’s either my human flesh or my brother’s human flesh” So I grab some of his human flesh and try to jam it into the claw. And meanwhile he’s trying to do the same thing to me. And pretty soon the claw clamps down on his leg BOOM and it starts to squeeze. And he starts to scream, “Ahhh!” hoping the claw will show some mercy. Oh but it never did. The claw never stopped until two fingers touched together through the human flesh. “Ahhh!” and if you weren’t getting the claw you would sit and watch politely. “Ahhhh!” pretty soon the two fingers would touch, and the claw retracts. And I look over at my brother and he’s sitting there calm and serene like “It’s nine in the morning and I’ve already survived the claw. How bad could the day be?”

We pull into the church parking lot and we’re 15 minutes late so we’re running into church past that metal handrail. That metal handrail that got really cold in the winter. That metal handrail that one day I’d said, “Steve, tongues don’t stick. Your tongue won’t stick do you see any glue on there?” Yeah, it did. We get past the metal handrail and into the church and we sit in the last pew. And then we hear an anthem and then we hear the announcements and then it’s time to sing a hymn. “Holy holy holy.” Everyone except my dad, “holy holy holy” God gave dad one note, and that’s the note he brought to church. A-men. Thank God. And we sit down and as the congregation sits Dr. Richardson, the pastor, gets up to deliver the sermon and as he approaches the podium the entire congregation settles back cause this is gonna take a while, and it’s gonna be on his one note. And Dr. Richardson isn’t even though the amusing anecdote when my dad’s baby blue eyes roll up in his head and he is out cold. Now my dad always snored at home, but in church he went to sleep in complete silence. And as he nodded off his arm would roll down his side, his sleeve would slide, and he would inadvertently expose his watch. So my brother and I could have our breath-holding competitions. “Go to sleep. Go to sleep” And this was gonna be the best week because we had seen this movie called Houdini with Tony Curtis, and in it Tony Curtis had laid in this bathtub full of ice cubes and held his breath for three minutes to practice for an underwater river dive. Three minutes? We could do that. We’d been practicing practically our whole lives. “Go to sleep. Go to sleep” And my dad nods off and there’s that watch. We warm our lungs….One minute. No problem…….Two minutes. A little bit more of a problem, but still okay. And at two and a half minutes I hear my brother go. “He’s gonna lose it. He’s gonna lose it.” Sure enough he lost it. Now it’s all up to me. 2:55, 2:56, 2:57 “Praise God from whom all blessings flow.” It’s the doxology. Everyone’s on their feet. I stand up….but I haven’t breathed in in three minutes and the church takes one big spin over my head and I am out cold. And in my delirium I can hear people, “he’s had a vision. He’s seen Jesus!” Except for Dr. Richardson, “Not in my church. Nobody sees Jesus in my Church.” And my dad scoops me up, runs me into the bathroom, sits me down, checks my eyes and says, “Holding your breath again, huh?” “No.”

 

 

Copyright © 2001 Kevin Kling
Published on the World Wide Web by "www.storymania.com"