Lord, I don’t believe in You, and I haven’t since Catholic priests beat the snot outta me in high school. But in these troubling times, fraught as they are, a man like me can afford to take no chances. So where do I turn? To You, Lord, even though I don’t believe in You and if You’re gonna get mad at anyone bout it, start with the priests. Okay, Lord? Get mad at them. Okay?
In the meantime, Lord, I don’t think You’re out there, but I’m gonna talk to You anyway. Gonna pretend, God. I’m not doing the whole on my knees with elbows propped up on the bed thing. I’m sitting at my desk, asking that You grant me the patience and wherewithal to endure yet another of the petty little skirmishes between Julie and Laura.
Right now, God? Laura’s out in the hallway crying, saying Julie’s the biggest bitch she’s ever met in her whole entire life. Julie’s upstairs telling anyone who’ll listen (Rudy, pretending he understands American) that she’s not apologizing to anyone for anything. I think I know what this is about, God. An unpaid Lollapalooza ticket. I’m gonna need You to give me some patience and wherewithal, Lord. Even though You don’t exist.
You know what else, God? God, if You’ve nothing better to do, I beseech Thee, make Jason stop giving me funny soup names. I like his funny soup names and all, but lately I just am getting to the point where they all kinda blur into one another. Last night, his two heavy hitters were Chicken Ralph-abet and Bowm-Chicken-Bowm-BOWM. God, they’re funny and all that, but ... You gotta make him take a breather on this.
Lord, I know I’ve said I don’t believe in You, so, You know, take this with a rather large grain of salt, but … I would be forever in your debt if you could do away with things like Hunger, War, Pestilence, Hate and Men Who Wipe Boogers On Bathroom Walls So I Hafta Either Scrape Them Off Or Repaint The Walls.
While You’re at it, God, I swear to God, look over the hundred-something year old guy that’s coming in tonight with his daughter, who’s old enough to be my grandma, almost. He’s gonna get onion rings to start, then the corned beef with fries and will wash down everything with martinis and then have ice cream for dessert. This is what he always gets. Lord, let this not be the meal that kills him. Not only cause killing an old man with a meal is, as they say, bad for business, but it’d make ours his last meal. And we should under no circumstances be anyone’s last meal. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemies.
Speaking of enemies, hey. Listen. Lord. (You’re not there, so I dunno what I’m wasting my time for. I must be pretty goddamn desperate, eh God? Oh well. But hey.) Just in the off chance you’re on the receiving end of this and you answer prayers on a first come first served basis, not on a believers first, non-believers second kinda way, I’d really appreciate it if you could smite a few of my enemies.
For the purposes of this prayer, let’s define enemies as any who’re mad at me and want to yell at me and have left me too many emails and voicemails today, thereby making me grumpy and sad. Let’s also define ‘few’ as ‘all.’ And since we’re already casting a pretty wide fucking net, why don’t we say You’re gonna smite all enemies I currently have and all I may one day have. Okay? You smite ‘em however You see fit. I’m not gonna tell You how to smite. Let the Spirit move you as It will. Thanks, Lord.
Lord, help me live long enough to see my son live long enough to see his son (or daughter). Also, Lord, let that not be til he’s in his twenties, cause the last thing I need is to hafta have some teenage parent in the house. My Lord, Lord, could you imagine? I mean, Jesus Christ. You know? So … make it so he’s not a dad til he’s in his twenties and safely outta my hair, but also make it so I’m still alive to see him becoming a dad. I wanna see that and I wanna be there seeing it with (Wife-asaurus) and I want us to still be married. If I’m dead or she’s dead or we’re divorced before he has a child, I’m gonna feel slighted and will remember the slight and just as soon as I believe in You again, will hold it against You. The slight.
Lord, I know You’re not up there, but if You are, which You’re not, but if You are, it’s a holiday weekend coming up and so please watch over us on Friday, Saturday and Sunday. (We’re closed Monday, so don’t worry bout Monday, God.) I’d like to make it through a holiday weekend with nary an incident. I would like this place to run gravy-sandwich smooth. Orders taken, drinks poured, food prepared, plates served, customers happy, all in a timely fashion. A weekend feeling no shame. Rather … pride. God, just once, just once, I’d like to experience what pride feels like.
Hey. Lord. While I got you. Can you make it so our new rib guy doesn’t come in spouting weird shit he got off of Glenn Beck? Is that within Your power? (It might be too much to ask for you to shut up Glenn Beck, so I won’t.) This new rib guy’s always yapping bout this-this-this, that-that-that and every other thing. Let him poison someone else’s ear with talk of (insert any completely weird, random, cuckoo for cocoa puffs, off-the-wall, bats in the belfry shit Glenn Beck says or has said here). Also make it so his ribs are more consistent. They’re a bit hit or miss lately. Can You do that? If You exist, I mean. Do you do ribs, God? I sure hope so, cause Monday’s were chewy.
Um … I think that might be it, God. For now, anyway. I used to know how to wind up a prayer, but I forced myself to forget when I stopped believing in You. I think it’s sposed to end Through Christ, Our Lord, Amen. I guess we’ll just go with that and be done with it, shall we? Through Christ, Our … oh. Shit. Hey. Wait.
I’ve been meaning to ask You. Did You answer the few prayers I prayed before? I know You didn’t cause You don’t exist. So … well … but … but did You? One I member off hand, freshman year of college, I promised You all kindsa stuff I didn’t mean if only You’d see to it my girlfriend wasn’t knocked up and if she was, that it was another guy who did the knocking.
Turned out she was only a few days late, but then I blew off keeping my end of the bargain. Did You have anything to do with her not being pregnant? Was that You? Or was it just she was late. I kinda just … I dunno, I got what I wanted outta everything, so I forgot all bout it. I can’t even member what I promised You. Living life by Your example or some crap like that. I dunno. Whatever it took. I woulda promised whatever it took. I was desperate.
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And it's a very Recovering Catholic Prayer.
Forever and Ever, Amen.
The Mass has ended. Go to pieces.
squirrel: You've outdone yourself with this one...this is a classic...this could get you famous in and of itself. I feel the same way, but figure since I really don't know if there is a God or not (really doesn't seem like there is One given the state of the world but again given the miraculous nature of the World and Universe, you never know...but we always have Monte for that, thank God for Monte), it doesn't hurt to throw out the prayers. But back to your writing. Every line of this post was well crafted and first rate. Hey...maybe you're God!
Uh, hello? Adam and Eve? Of course He does ribs.
Oh, and I would so gladly ask for Glenn Beck to get a permanent case of laryngitis. It is doable.
That will be two Our Father's and 5 Hail Mary's..... and a sincere Act of Contrition.
thank you!
check out my new 'christ brown' posting: it's also reflections on faith, albeit not as funny. but i'm not even gonna try to compete ;)
Nah. Well, maybe.............................???
God bless,
Monte
squirrel -- pat yourself on the back for this one.
i like your prayers, too, especially about living long enough to see your son live long enough to see his son or daughter.
i say again, where the hell is your book deal? tho i kindof dont want you to get one, bc we are sure to suffer if you do. bc your book would be a big seller and you would go off and do tours and interviews, and between that and pokey, we would never hear from you.
Oh, and He's also suggesting I make you a favorite. Not that I believe, you know, but I can't take chances these days.
Squirrel, I wish I knew your real name and could shake your hand, you SOB. I am rarely jealous of anyone I read here on OS -- there, I said it -- and usually if i feel anything "comparative/different" it is satisfaction over what I learn, absorb from others. I absorb much from your work, especially this one, but I also -- tell the truth and shame the nonesistent devil -- feel jealousy.
Specifically? That you have a Book. A very Good Book (sorry nonexistent god). No, a Great Book, one that I would buy right away. And this book could just be chaptered from your restaurant posts, almost as is. Even this post, nay, especially this post, as is, right in there.
This is: colloquial brilliance, funny as hell, sly, rich with shrewd character portraiture, original, and again: funny.
I am approx. 5 light years from your level of inner consistency in the fictive-memoirish book that sometimes peeks out in my posts. Jealous is not quite it, because I celebrate your success; more like wistful dismay over how far I have to go to get to where you are.
You. are. great.
P. S. Next time you have an audience with God, can you please wish for a permanent case of laryngitis for Sarah Palin? Thanks much.
I'm sorry the Catholics beat you up, Squirrel, that sucks. But that was the church, not God. We hear so much about the separation of church and state, but not enough about the separation of church and God. Church ain't got a monopoly on holy, they're just a box full of people and you can't put God in a box. You don't need church to have God, so pray on. You seem to have the knack of it just fine. :-)
Abraham's god seemed to exist for Abraham and Abraham's close relatives only. Yet He didn't trust Abraham until Abraham agreed to "sacrifice" Isaac for him. Nice guy! For Abraham's descendants He smote the Egyptian first born and allowed the Israelites to smite the Caananites. This started a tit for tat cycle. that continues to this day, between those who smite for Yahweh and those who smite for Allah. Enough with all this smiting. Make peace with your enemies. Please.
God, if he exists, is not your personal savior nor is he mine. That book by his servant Job makes ckear that he created the Universe, the existance of which is pretty clear, for all of his creatures not just Job.
The Universe os just gonna' do what it wants anyway. But if praying makes you feel good or if it is meditation or yoga that does it for you than just do it.
How many times have I blasphemed today? I know that my pious Spehardic Grandpa is spinning in his grave now. Sorry grandpa, I just can't help it.
ps. Tomorrows word, flummox.
Pray for me.
A sign of peace.