Angels in the Drive-Thru
I'm not a religious man. Far from it, really. For instance, I was going to do a little bit about the commandments and I actually typed "God's Top Ten" in the search box. Letterman loves that.
Still, I can get behind the commandments, except for the part about coveting my neighbors wife. I'm big on the coveting. I also enjoy being coveted, but apparently it's okay to covet thy neighbor's husband. Not that there is anything wrong with that.
We took the boys to McDonald's tonight because they love it and there is a recession going on. The place was standing room only. Literally. I actually ate standing up. It turns out there was some sort of Christian fundraiser being held.
Old pious women tried to sell us apple pies at the door. We passed. I'll take my chances on the afterlife without a McDonald's pastry stuck to my ribs, thank you.
The kids were all well-dressed and surprisingly ill-mannered. My kids crammed into their table for two and ate silently in sin. Or what passes for it nowadays.
I kept thinking back to a night in high school. A group of us went to the local skating rink for some wholesome teenage fun. I hoped it was foreplay. It wasn't.
That place, too, was packed. We put on our skates and commented on the fact that none of us recognized the very loud, and apparently popular, music that was playing. We were halfway around the rink before everyone, everyone but us, threw their hands up in the air and started chanting.
I didn't even finish the lap. I just cut straight across the rink and went to the heathen window for my refund.
I felt like a caveman at a Geico party.
I think it was Milton, or perhaps Cake, that said, "sheep go to Heaven, goats go to Hell." And I can't help but wonder if I had lived just that.
Someday, when all is said and done and you find yourself standing in a long line outside the Pearly Gates, don't be surprised to see some Golden Arches in the distance.
However, if you are one to skirt old ladies hawking pie, or you turn your skates in before the Hokey Pokey- if you want things your way, you're getting flame-broiled, and that's a whopper.
I wonder what Jack in the Box is bringing to the table.