Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Willie and Jesus and Me
So I'm sitting in a bar around midnight last Saturday, when the owner of the place/bartender comes in to tell me that Willie Nelson is down the street. I, of course, called bullsh*t, but he was insistent that it was Willie.
So I walk out and look down the side street where he is pointing, and about 50 yards away is a guy standing next to a van who does look a hell of a lot like Willie. "That ain't him." I say, only slightly less sure of myself. "Go close an look," he replies.
So I walk down the road, but before I can get close enough, I accidentally wander into a group of young Christians intent on saving souls in the bar district (you gotta go where the sinners are). Fortunately, they were too busy casting a demon out of some black guy to screw with me. They've got him pinned to the wall of the bar and are laying hands on him, praying loudly for the demon to get out, while this guy's looking skyward with his eyes rolled back in his head. Realizing I'm in a weirdness zone, I immediately take a few steps forward in order to determine that, while he is the spitting image of the Red Headed Stranger, the man in question was not Willie, and then I high-tailed it back to my bar stool.
So I walk into the bar, and the bartender is grinning from ear to ear. "That wasn't Willie," says I. "I know, but did you get your soul saved out there?" he replied. The bastard had set me up. "Nope, they were too busy using the side of your restaurant to cast the demons out of some guy." "What? There'll be no saving souls on my property!" he said running out the door.
I guess I know where Jesus and Willie stand relatively with the man who pours my beers.
So I walk out and look down the side street where he is pointing, and about 50 yards away is a guy standing next to a van who does look a hell of a lot like Willie. "That ain't him." I say, only slightly less sure of myself. "Go close an look," he replies.
So I walk down the road, but before I can get close enough, I accidentally wander into a group of young Christians intent on saving souls in the bar district (you gotta go where the sinners are). Fortunately, they were too busy casting a demon out of some black guy to screw with me. They've got him pinned to the wall of the bar and are laying hands on him, praying loudly for the demon to get out, while this guy's looking skyward with his eyes rolled back in his head. Realizing I'm in a weirdness zone, I immediately take a few steps forward in order to determine that, while he is the spitting image of the Red Headed Stranger, the man in question was not Willie, and then I high-tailed it back to my bar stool.
So I walk into the bar, and the bartender is grinning from ear to ear. "That wasn't Willie," says I. "I know, but did you get your soul saved out there?" he replied. The bastard had set me up. "Nope, they were too busy using the side of your restaurant to cast the demons out of some guy." "What? There'll be no saving souls on my property!" he said running out the door.
I guess I know where Jesus and Willie stand relatively with the man who pours my beers.
Centinel 11:32 AM #