As a father, non-philandering husband and upright citizen, I am not proud of the tale about to unfold, unless of course it is well-received, garners a Pulitzer Prize and/or hondles a three-book deal at Rowling money.
I was a somewhat typical teen during my highschoolhood. I say somewhat typical because, unlike many other kids my age, I only occasionally participated in underage drinking, never bullied anyone except those who deserved it, and never cheated except in history class. Overall, a good kid who these days would be considered a nerd, except that I have always been popular and uncommonly hip. Remorseful confession: I never bullied anyone. I just said that to appear less perfect and, consequently, more relatable.
Most of the people I hung around with were relatively good, although not nearly as good as me (At this point, I should inform the reader that portions of this story are and will continue to be written in a conversational style employing relaxed grammar and punctuation practices. I don't have a well reason other than I want to stand out from other authors who write good.).
I apologize for previously tooting my own horn—which, coincidently in a euphemistic sense, is the foundation of my narrative. More accurately, the desire for someone else to toot my horn is what lead to the events that made this story necessary. In mixed metaphor, baseball-terms-for-sexual-experience, I was a fairly decent singles hitter, with an occasional stop at second base and even less frequent approaches to third—and usually only due to my opponents' defensive lapses and physical errors. By no means a power hitter on the diamond, I also never hit a home run in the sack (or in a car or in basement closet or in hayloft...).
And while I virtually thought of little else than sliding triumphantly into home, my pangs never distorted me into a hormonal teenage Mr. Hyde, mainly because the post-date long walks home from anywhere I was had the same result as a cold shower. Luckily in that regard, I (as most teens of that era) didn't have access to a car and had no choice but to walk my ass and wood off. Also, there was no shame associated with being a virgin and no peer pressure to be otherwise, since most peers also were chaste ... except for Cousin Ricky, who knocked up his girlfriend twice while still in high school (the knocking was not actually performed on school property).
When Thursday math class rolled around one Thursday, my friend and aisle neighbor Jackie invited me to spend the weekend with him and the usual gang at a cousin-owned cabin. I accepted but asked if the invitees would also include girls and his crazy brother Dilly. "No and yes," he said. Jackie always made a point of getting to the point quickly before his A.D.D. sabotaged his focus and he started babbling about squirrels or farting or farting squirrels.
I anticipated his answer, but was disappointed nonetheless. Not so much about the girls, but about Dilly. Three years older than the rest of us (and two years less mature), he was our only means of transportation to our hoped-for lost weekend because he was the only car owner among us. His presence was viewed as the proverbial necessary evil, and no one but me expressed the least bit concern that he was blind in one eye, manic and heavy-footed. These were considered minor driving flaws and risks worth taking when compared to the greater rewards of binge drinking and subsequent passing out on a concrete floor in an unfinished, unheated cabin in rural Cujo, NJ, a surplus grenade's throw from Let's Kill Everyone While They Sleep, NY.
The other partiers were Victor, Tommy and Johnny. The perceptive reader will have noted that, with one exception, all the characters have names ending in y or ie. This was common among us 99-percenters. We made an exception with Victor, since calling him Victory would have been weird and inappropriate for several reasons—most notably that there was nothing victorious about him. We liked him anyway; it was cool that he owned a rifle and, unrelatedly, made the rest of us feel good about ourselves when he was around. FYI, the rifle plays as important a role in my story as wanting my horn tooted.
In case it is not obvious to some of you, wanting a toot refers to a desire to be honked by a female. I feel I need to be clear about this so as not to mislead readers who may be expecting a homosexual twist to this story of six ripe teen boys spending a weekend in a remote cabin—readers who would be disappointed that it didn't turn out that way, as well as readers who would stop reading for fear that it would. I am not judging. I am just representing.
So, we arrived at the cabin the Friday evening following the Thursday math class invitation. We practiced for Saturday night's drinking by drinking on arrival, whose initials are, prophetically, d.o.a. Nothing noteworthy occurred that night except for Dilly nearly decorating the cabin's bare walls with Victor's bloody brain and skull splatter. This was the first time I witnessed the clichéd gun safety script: Dilly pointing the rifle at Victor's head, Victor screaming at Dilly to put the rifle down and Dilly assuring him the rifle was unloaded just as the bullet exploded out of the barrel and into a wall at the exact elevation where Victor's head had been a millisecond before, just prior to his instincts pulling him to the safety of the unforgiving concrete floor.
Dilly's response to the ensuing gang-scolding was typical responsibility deflection. "Easy for you guys to say now, hindsight being fifty-fifty and what not."
I don't recall what occupied our time for most of Saturday day. I do remember us drinking our dinner and, at some point, me belching to no one in particular, "I need to get laid."
"I know a woman down the road. My cousin bangs her every time he comes up here. She'll do you ... come on, I'll introduce you," Dilly volunteered.
Since I was not able to walk off my jones because I was too liquor-limbed to remain upright for more than a few steps, I agreed. Johnny and Jackie poured me into the back seat of Dilly's car, while they shared the front with him. Victor and Tommy welcomed the chance to be Dilly-free and elected to stay behind. I don't know why three crowded into the front seat while I was alone in the back with Tommy's rifle, but we embarked on Dilly and Bobby and Johnny and Jackie's excellent adventure—the half-blind leading the totally blitzed.
Our trek was not even two minutes long when it literally spun out of control. "Move over. I don't have enough room to steer. I can't move my arms ... and it's so dark out, I can't see the road," Dilly said to his brother, but driving increasingly faster, as if to get the inevitable over with as quickly as possible.
"I can't move, either," Jackie said as the car spun several times and flipped on its driver's side before eventually sliding to a halt thirty feet from our destination. Gravity and centrifugal force launched all the non-human contents of the car into the back seat with me. Luckily, none of it struck the rifle's trigger, since the barrel was lodged in my right ear.
None of us moved until, now shocked into soberness, we were fairly certain we were not dead. We cranked down the passenger-side windows and crawled out of the car, examining it and us for damages. Once we righted the car back onto its bald tires, we determined that only Dilly's hand gash required attention, and so we piled back into the car in the same stupid seating arrangement as before.
Dilly piloted his death machine to the anticipated site of my midnight ballgame. He got out of the car, haltingly approached the darkened house and tapped lightly on the front door. A pissed-off, recently awakened in the middle of the night middle-aged woman opened the door and growled, "Why the hell are you wimpy-ass punks bangin' on my door?"
Apologetically, Dilly answered the creature. "Sorry to wake you, Delilah. We had an accident. You don't know me, but my cousin owns the cabin just up the hill. You don't know him, either. Can we come in for just a second for a Band-Aid and some mercurochrome for my cut?"
"No," she shouted and slammed the door in Dilly's face and on my dream of finally circling all the bases.
"Son of a bitch! This was all made up bullshit," I yelled at Dilly. "The closest I'm going to get to a bang tonight is if the rifle shoots me in the head on the return trip. You almost killed us for nothing, you lying bastard."
Not only was I not going to hit my first home run on this road trip, I wasn't even going to be invited into the dugout.
The remaining hours of the weekend were spent in sober contemplation, even during the otherwise uneventful drive back home. I realized how lucky I was to be alive and how stupid actions and decisions could lead to a lifetime of death. Still being a teenage boy with an unquenched thirst, I mostly reflected on sex, specifically, my three near-brushes with the unsafe aspect of it.
Foremost, the usual, catching syphilis one, since the foil-packed condom I had been carrying for three years in my wallet (and which had embossed into the leather the obvious ring of inexperience) had disintegrated into an envelope of useless latex powder. Also, having a loaded rifle pistol-whip me on my way to the first scenario (strangely, not my foremost thought). And finally, the non-STD-emitting parts of Delilah's body. In the dim moonlight, which, it is said, adds thirty pounds of intimidating muscle and three feet of intimidating height to the human frame, she looked as though she would be able to effortlessly snap my spine in two—either during the seizure-throes of her orgasm (doubtful) or just for the fun of it (probable).
I have since hit a few home runs, at home and on the road, and no longer have to toot my own horn. However, few at-bats have been as memorable as the strikeout that nearly put me on the big disabled list in the sky.
Is it true Jehovah's Witnesses believe that Michael the archangel and Jesus are the same person? – Catholic Say
In a word, yes. The Jehovah’s Witnesses maintain that Jesus was Michael the archangel prior to his coming to earth. They assert: “Scriptural evidence indicates that the name Michael applied to God’s Son before he left heaven to become Jesus Christ and also after his return” (Aid to Bible Understanding, Watchtower Bible & Tract Society, 1971, 1152).
They arrive at this erroneous belief primarily through a misinterpretation of (1) Daniel 10:13, 21, where reference is made to a “great prince,” Michael; and (2) First Thessalonians 4:16, where the Lord Jesus is described as descending from heaven at the sound of the archangel’s voice. The JWs’ own New World Translation of the Bible reads, ” . . . the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a commanding call, with an archangel’s voice.”
While there are several problems with this line of reasoning, two points in particular easily reveal its fallacy. First, the fact that the Lord Jesus descends “with an archangel’s voice” does not automatically mean that it is his own voice spoken of. This passage simply says that an archangel’s voice will accompany the Lord’s descent from heaven, in the same manner that the bailiff’s voice (“All rise!”) accompanies the judge’s entrance into the courtroom.
Thus, if God never called an angel his Son, then Michael–who is an angel–cannot be the Son. The fact that Michael is an archangel does not change anything, as he is still an angel by nature. An archangel is simply a “higher order” of angel, but an angel nonetheless; “arch-” simply means “ruling” or “high ranking.”
Maybe its best to become a Muslim. I have never seen Muslims preaching different things. The bibble is very political. There is a variety of interpretations and understandings….yet Christians use the same bubble
You seem not to know what is happening. That a group sprang up and start answering one name those not make the group what they purport to represent. There is no Christianity without Jesus Christ.
Three words to reply to “I have never seen Muslims preaching different things.”: Sunni versus Shi’a.
[…] Society is a false religion for changing its doctrines if the Catholic Church has also done so? Is it true Jehovah’s Witnesses believe that Michael the archangel and Jesus are the same perso… How do we know that the Bible is not the sole rule of faith? Would be appropriate for a Catholic […]
I don’t quite agree that Micheal the archangel and Jesus aer the same person. I s not so. Why? Becuz boths hav different rotter role to play in the Heavenlyies hierarchy. Read Dan 10: 13 very well, saying ‘one of the chief princes’ does not really mean The “Prince of Peace” whic is our Lord Jesus Christ as prophecy by Isa 9: 6, and a pointing light frm Jude verse 9, make it clearer that Micheal the archangel refers to thy Lord Jesus Christ by rebuking the devil. Becuz only at the name of Jesus right was again to triumph over devil’s defeats. Phi 2: 10 – their is an heavenly order. Believe me!
for me ,..he is michael archangel ,JESUS,….WHY ,because theres no other created spirit person other than angels,..they are all angel in different rankings,..but still they ARE ALL a kind spirit personS,..so if GOD ALMIGHTY to whom you give the rank of a ARCAHANGEL,…did you think that ALMIGHTY GOD inconsistent to give THE title archangel TO the right spirit person RATHER than his begotten son JESUS,…what will happen if GIVEN TO OTHERS ,..is it there a disorder of ranking,…NOTE THAT JESUS IS A SPIRIT PERSON TOO THAT ALMIGHTY GOD CREATED,..THE FIRST BORN OF ALL CREATION,..
Michael was Jesus name in heaven, before he came to earth. In regards to the extra books found in the Catholic Bible like Torbith, Judith etc., these are not inspired by God but were left in anyway. You will not find any of them in the ancient scrolls.
The Catholic Church was founded in the 4th Century AD by Pagan Roman Emperor Constantine., long after the great foretold Apostasy took place. Protestantism was a breakaway from Catholicism during the Protestant Reformation.
By the this time the original teachings of Christ Jesus had been largely forgotten & replaced with doctrines of men. Case in point: The earliest Christians were “no part of the world or it’s affairs” so they were neutral as to politics and bearing arms, according to historians. They literally followed Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, Matthew chapters 5-7 inclusive. They lived for it & died for it, refusing to compromise their beliefs.
The only religious ground today doing this are Jehovah’s Christian Witnesses because we are a re-establishment & revival of the First Century Christianity, as practised by Jesus and his Apostles. (New Encyclopedia Canadiana)
Why would one religion, think that it makes sense to TRY to explain another’s beliefs? Sounds like apostasy to me… [SHRUGS] Also, if the Jehovah’s Witnesses weren’t God’s TRUE followers, then why are they THE ONLY organization that doesn’t have different sects and all follow the same program WORLD WIDE. Research that one for yourself. Then pray about it…
Fascinating! – all your ‘comments’, I mean. Have you ever wondered why God said: “This is my Son, the beloved, in whom I am well pleased”? – God (as a man), also said to St. Peter: ” You are Peter, and upon this Rock I will build my Church” – Forgive me, dear Lord if I have misquoted You; I haven’t got a Holy Bible in front of me.