I'm Good for Making a Heel Out of Myself!

I was holding back on this story. I can tell it now because I sort of got confirmation I wasn't a complete jerk.

This relates to the a few stories back about my toothache and how I figured out dog antibiotics are really just fine enough for people to take as well.

For those of you that have had toothaches, you understand the exquisite pain they can cause and how nearly breathing on a “hot” tooth can make it scream. For those of you who never had the experience, slam your thumb in a car door, you'll understand then.

I attended a funeral a week or so ago for Robert Thurber Sr, a one time Chief of the Pawtucket Fire Department. I had met him years earlier as he was a regular at a pub I have visited a thousand times. Chief and I weren't close friends but more of acquaintances. Even so, after numerous meetings and conversations, I came to like the guy as he was genuine. I use “genuine” as that he was very upfront in his opinions, not a BS artist and actually interested in other people's life stories. He told me great tales of major fires I remember that hit Pawtucket that he had to command. Also some comedic stories about various calls he went on I won't repeat here. Well, I may tell of the Andy Panda story one day.

So, I got to like the guy as he was open, full of great stories and understood that 90 minute one on one conversations are the norm in an Irish pub. Believe me, the major reason for Irish pubs are the conversations, either they be about fuel injectors or astrophysics. Plus some beer.

**

Chief lived out his life and died. I attended his funeral. I haven't stepped inside a Catholic church in fourteen years since I managed my brother’s funeral in 2003. The morning of Chief's funeral, I was in the parking lot across the street, popping Cephalexin tablets and Ibuprophen before I went in, figuring that by the time the event was done, the pain killers would still be working on my teeth. I would be OK.

So, I sat in the pews, going through the motions of sit, stand, kneel, sit routine when it came to the Holy Communion part. I got up and got in line to receive it. When in social situations like this, you go through all the motions as it's expected.

“The Body of Christ.” the priest intones. I held out my hand and he placed a triangular wafer into it.

As I was walking back to my spot on the pew, I thought, “God, I ain't chewing anything today. I can't even eat overcooked pasta.” So I popped the wafer into my pocket.

As the Mass went on, I noticed this red haired priest was shooting looks at me. My paranoid self thought, ”Oh God...another gay priest..the same type I ran into at St. Raphaels who would ogle at the teen boys.”

That wasn't the reason he was looking at me though. As I came to find out.

So the Mass comes to an end and we follow the casket out. As I was just about to exit the main doors, this same priest darts at me and says, rather a bit too loud.

“I don't want to make a scene.”

I was half awake as I was walking out so I became alert real fast, but kind of confused about what was going on, as he said this to me.

I lean over kind of far, nearly tete to tete so the conversation is softer and he asks.

“Did you eat the Host?”

“No.” I say kind of nonchalantly.

“Can I have it back?” he demands.

I reach into my pocket and deftly place it into his hands, trying not to alert EVERYONE else there what had just happened.

I quickly slip out the main doors onto the steps and moved on like nothing had happened.

**

Later on in the day, I tell this story to my friend in Plymouth. He's guffawing as he hears it. He was once an altar boy and knew all about these rituals.

“You IDIOT...don't you know that that host, the wafer...is CONSECRATED?”

“What does that mean?” I ask

“Shit” he says. “I can't believe you went to a Catholic DeLassalian school and don't know this!”

“That wafer, that Host is the Body of Jesus! It's gone through transubstantiation. It has literally become the flesh of Christ himself!”

“No it hasn't!” I shoot back.

“Look” he says, “You and I know that it ain't, but to that priest it IS...and he wasn't about to let you just walk out of the church with it in your pocket, to sit there for three weeks.”

“Did you know...if the church was burning down, the priests have to eat every consecrated wafer from the Tabernacle? Not to let them burn up if they can help it? Those priests have to account for every host they consecrate!”

“No wonder that priest was eying me the whole time.” I say.

My friend goes on, “He probably was at dinner that night, with the other parish priests when he chimes in with a 'Hey, you wouldn't believe what some guy tried to do today..walk out with a Communion host!'”

Sigh...I not kidding, my first thought was to NOT eat the thing because both rows of teeth were SCREAMING that morning. Ah well...no matter. It's not like I'm going back to explain myself. The priest is probably setting up an Excommunication Mass right now...aimed at me.