I felt just like a Wookie at
A Star Trek convention!
Or a bit like Flipper on a
Desert expedition!

I hadn’t been to church in years,
Not since I was a boy.
Though I grew up with Father Tim,
And his kid brother Coy.

I once put a water tight seal
In Tim’s Chevy truck bed.
Then I filled it up with water,
And threw in some steel head.

Ol’ Tim didn’t even notice
The water, or the trout,
When he got into that Chevy,
And peeled the sucker out.

When he stopped at a traffic light
At Main Street and McNab,
A fish jumped through his back window,
And landed in the cab.

The good Father was so startled,
And overcome with fear,
That he screamed and jumped from the truck
While it was still in gear!

It started rolling down main street
And Tim was getting sick.
That fish didn’t have a license,
And couldn’t drive a stick!

It slammed into a Peterbuilt
A block shy of town square,
The loss of life was staggering,
There was trout everywhere!

The town’s folk gathered up those fish,
And then prepared a feast.
‘Cause Tim decided, then and there,
To go become a priest.

And here we are ten years later,
Its time that I confessed,
To all the pranks I played on him,
For which I must be blessed.

Since he became a full fledged priest,
He should live and let live
The times he caught me with his mom,
He will have to forgive.

Are priests supposed to curse like that???
What a mouth on that guy!!
And when I turned the other cheek,
He punched me in the eye!

Confession is good for the soul,
At least that’s what I hear.
But it’s sure hard on the body,
And that part wasn’t clear.

Would Jesus do something like that???
‘Cause I don’t think he would!!
He’d look past all the bad in me,
And focus on the good!

There has to be some good in there!
Just look past all that sin!
What do you mean you don’t see it???
Well dang it, LOOK AGAIN!!!

I am as good as I can be!!
Just like any other.
And Tim, if you don’t believe that,
Go and ask your mother!!

Then I felt that collection plate
Ricochet off my head,
And I knew if I didn’t leave,
I just might wind up dead.

But that experience taught me
To use more discretion,
When I tell him ‘bout his sister,
At my next confession.

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