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Exit Stage Left at the Door
= Exit, Stage Left, at The Door =
by Peter Petrisko ([email protected])
I'm writing up some "random bits" for my weblog, and
thought some here might remember more details on this
one.
In the account below, I mention Nick Ianuzzi. I do
believe he was with us that night, but it could've
been either Jim Lippard or Zak instead. So, to get
around this lapse in memory, I've created a "composite
character" whom I've called "Nick". Also, there might
have been one or two others with us that night. Again,
they, too, are "Nick" for story purposes.
Enjoy. And if you were there too, please let me know.
I'll thank you now for any assistance you can
provide... Thanks, "Nick".
========================================================
Lo, those many years ago, when I was a teenager and
still had the energy for tomfoolery, some friends and
I went to visit 'The Door' one evening.
For those of you who don't know, 'The Door' is a
hardcore born-again christian revival meeting
establishment.
Just for the record, none of *us* were christians at
the time.
Beside myself, there was Rod - a still-hippified
hippie from the 60s - his daughter, 15, and a
soft-spoken tech-type named Nick, age 28.
After parking, we went inside 'The Door'. It was
packed, and all attention was on a stage in the front.
There was a play going on, but as we had missed the
beginning, I wasn't quite sure what the story was
about. Apparently, from what I gathered from what we
did see, some guy had died and they had put his body
in a cave.
There was a huge, papier-m�ch� cave on-stage, with a
big, Styrofoam boulder stuffed into the cave entrance.
Broadway, this was not.
The actors wandered about the stage, enacting bad
acting. They all used a lot of "thees" and "thous"
when they spoke. With the archaic language, it was
very hard to follow, which made me think that maybe
they were doing Shakespeare.
But I digress, for at that point, each of the four of
us were approached by true-believin' audience members.
Each person coming up to us pretty much matched our
individual "types". An older, bearded guy for Rod. A
young girl for his daughter. A teenaged guy for me. A
clean-cut twenty something for Nick.
We were separated from each other. Now, I can't speak
for the others, but I was witnessed to, which
concluded with this earnest young man asking me, "Do
you accept Jesus Christ as your lord and personal
savior?"
"Listen, pal," I replied, "I stopped believing in
Santa Claus when I was eight, and I don't plan on
worshipping a 2,000 year old corpse."
Something similar must have transpired with my friends
because, as with the guy who had been talking to me,
all the Door-ites backed up. Slowly.
My friends and I beat a hasty retreat.
But this is where it gets weird.
Out in the parking lot, just after we got back in the
van but before the doors were shut, a horde of
Door-ites came up to the van and actually *started
climbing in after us*. They kept saying things like,
"Come back inside, Jesus loves you" or quoting random
spooky bible quotes.
It was like something out of 'Night of the Living
Dead', except that they didn't actually eat us.
Finally, I had had enough, so I announced in a loud
voice, "Listen, we're running late. We've got to get
to a Satanic High Mass, and if we don't leave right
now we'll never make it in time to see the sacrificing
of the virgin."
It was as if I had held up a cross amongst a group of
vampires, the way those Door-ites scattered.
We drove off, but as we didn't really have a high mass
to go to, we went to Denny's instead. I had the grand
slam breakfast, which is available 24 hours a day.
= From the "Whatever Happened to?" file =
So, what happened to Peter? As Yoda would say, "Dashed
optimism leads to cynicism. Cynicism leads to sarcasm.
Sarcasm leads to 'The World According to Pete'."
http://worldofpete.blogspot.com