Chaos.
Calamity.
Arguing, brawling, and squabbling.
All the way to church.
That’s right.
Church.
Once upon a time, my brother and I used to create the most unholy mayhem.
Frequently.
Even at church.
Especially at church.
Evidently, our less than role model type conduct was downright mortifying.
The car wouldn’t even be fully backed out the driveway before we’d initialize our ritualistic slugfest.
Usually, it would begin with one of us discretely cracking an Etch-a-Sketch over the other one’s head.
And things would only get more exciting once we’d exit the confines of the vehicle.
While everyone around us would break into hymns, we’d provide the accompanying music-
Armpit farts.
Not the time or place?
You don’t say.
About to receive Communion?
Good time to get rumbling!
Donation money basket going around?
Decisions, decisions.
Confession time was always particularly challenging.
With plenty to confess, we’d have to keep it vague.
So I’d simply just apologize for fighting with my brother.
But there were definitely things left unsaid.
Then we’d get back to engaging in a few rounds of bloody knuckles, sometimes even throwing in a headlock or two.
We were easily distracted and equally as easily amused.
What can I say?
We were hands-on type of kids.
In the rare moments of sitting still, we’d pray.
Pray for service to end so we could take our free-for-all out to the parking lot.
It’s fair to say we were embarrassing to be around, as we failed to exemplify any holy qualities, in any public setting.
On the positive side, we managed to obey The Ten Commandments.
Mostly.
I mean, at least the most important one-
Thou shall not kill.
And we didn’t kill anyone.
Surely, that counted for something.
But then again…
We were siblings, after all, so there was never a guarantee that wouldn’t change at any moment.
Ultimately, my parents probably considered themselves lucky…
Even if only for the fact that my brother and I never once attempted to bathe or swim in the tub of holy water during Mass.
Hallelujah!
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