Sunday morning church

Postcard-sized flash fiction about the strangeness of beach life and Jesus and everything in between. And it all starts with an image...

Sunday morning church

If we’re being honest here, I almost didn’t go in that place, all broken down and life-worn. It’s the church I’m talking about not the Reverend. He was a kid. Barely cut his teeth is what I was thinking. But he invited me in and I felt the Lord right away, in the form of the best southern-fried chicken this mouth ever tasted. Done crispy on the outside but moister than the devil’s breath on the inside.
 
Why they served lunch before the sermon I’ll never know. Twenty minutes in and my head was bobbing. Nothing wrong with the young man’s preaching, Lordy I wouldn’t say that. Not ever. Now let me tell you something, I love the Lord for most of my life now, but I like to drink a little. Just to thin the blood mind you. And truth? I couldn’t tell if it was the drink or the food that had me snoring right there in the third row. Woke myself up with it. What could I do but fan my face with the bulletin, hiding my embarrassment as best I could?
 
After the service, not one word of my mid-morning nap. Not by Deacon Jones, not by the Reverend. They smiled and welcomed me back anytime. I took a good look at the church when I left. Broken and dirty. Thought it was a little like me. I felt a kinship.
 
My feet was light when I walked home. And so was my flask.
 


A note on this Postcard Story: I saw a YouTube video a few years ago from the Ellen DeGeneres Show. Ellen was talking on the phone with a woman named Gladys. She was a delight in every way possible and from her mouth came the best line I’ve ever heard, she said, I love Jesus, but I drink a little.

The second I found this church I knew her line belonged with the image. So, this postcard is dedicated to a woman I’ve never met but made me laugh so hard I cried. Thank you, Gladys. You are memorable in every way. Here is a link if you want to take a gander.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wGZccD6A_KQ

Postcard-sized flash fiction about the strangeness of life and angels and everything in between. And it all starts with an image...

Postcard-sized flash fiction about the strangeness of life and angels and everything in between. And it all starts with an image…

4 Comments
  • Michelle Ross-Sampson
    Reply

    Oh my God, Carmen, this was so good. I could feel every word of this Postcard as if I was living inside that dude! Your words just come alive and jump right off the pages. First they delight and then they stay with you, your characters, so memorable they are. Still thinkin’ of that alley and the gal with the wings… Suppose I’ll be thinking of this dude for a while as well. “I love Jesus, but I drink a little”. So classic, even if they weren’t your words, you used them well!!

    September 27, 2018 at 10:34 pm
  • Veronica Forsman
    Reply

    Fairly certain this is my favorite postcard to date. I could hear him! See him!! My favorite line, “Done crispy on the outside but moister than the devil’s breath on the inside.”…Seriously. This sentence alone conjures up so much!!! Crazy awesome.

    September 28, 2018 at 10:20 pm

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