I am a Good Book kind of guy. When I was growing up, all the other guys read the articles in Playboy Magazine. I read the Bible. You heard me right. The Bible. I kept wondering how it would turn out. I’ve never been a turn-to-the-end kind of reader. It always surprised me that Hercule Poirot hit the nail on the head and got the right guy. Usually the butler.
In those kind of books the butler did it. In fact, no matter what kind of book it is, the butler does it. So I wasn’t surprised when I got to the end of the Good Book to discover that Satan was the Butler.
Why did I read the Bible when all the other guys were finding out what Hef would wear to the prom? Certainly not for the clothes. I mean I wouldn’t be caught dead at a prom in a toga. The problem with togas is that you have to find matching shoes. Has anyone ever been able to find toga-matching shoes for a prom?
No. I wanted to find out who won the baseball game. After all, the Bible starts out with a baseball game. In the Big Inning. Spoiler alert: God wins. How He wins I am not telling. But He wins. The score isn’t even close.
I wondered if Noah’s Ark was the original Titanic? If so, where was the glacier? I even tried my hand at doing a Moses. I went down to the river close by my house and tried my hand at parting the waters. All I got for my trouble was a mouthful of water.
I thought my break out with the mumps was the first plague in Exodus. To get some relief, I told my mother to let my brother go. He was a regular Cain anyway.
I joined the marching band and took up trumpet. I figured it would be a great way to blow down the walls of the neighborhood bully. After all, it worked on Jericho for Joshua and his band of merry men.
Instead of working out, I did a Samson. I grew my hair long and expected strength. My back still hurts from the strain when I tried to pick up that VW Bug.
You’d think I would have learned. But no. I was arrested for carrying a sling shot without a license. I figured what was good enough for David was good enough for me. And I do live in an Open Carry State.
But you want to know the biggest disappointment. I couldn’t figure out how Solomon got seven hundred girlfriends. I tried reading “The Song of Solomon” to a number of girls at the college I went to. Talk about a great way to get slapped. That’s it.
There was one thing I did right. I didn’t put out the burning bush I saw in my back yard. I don’t care what my wife says. It could have been God. If God wants to burn down my house, what can I do? Besides FEMA and the insurance company paid for a whole new house. And my wife got the kitchen she’d been praying for.