Tall Tale #1

This morning at church, I noticed something slightly unusual about the man sitting in front of me. He sat in the middle of the congregation and, at a glance, wouldn't seem to different at all from anyone else. However, upon closer observation something didn't seem right. I couldn't figure out what his coat was made of, but alas, I resolved to worship God and ignore the distractions as a 'pious' Christian should.
In the middle of the sermon though, it dawned upon me what this leathery like coat was... human skin.

After the service, I approached the man. He smelt of whiskey and lost dreams. We had a conversation about our favorite celebrities in the morning sunlight streaming through the overhead windows slicing the air like razors, slicing through our coats, hiding who we were. He enjoys Brittany; personally, I like Prince. We both felt a pop star burn-out/washed-up reunion tour was necessary.

I then asked about the coat. I questioned:

"Why, my friend, is there a toenail stuck to part of your jacket."

"Well, I was clipping my toe nail and one flung up and became embedded in my coat like jewel in the side of a mountain."

"Now, my friend, the look in your tells me that may not be true and comparing a toenail in your coat to a jewel is a tad bit awkward."

"Ok, Ok... you got me...,' he said slowly with a sniffle. "I..."

"Go ahead, you can tell me."

"I... I... I just can't say it."

"It's ok, my friend, we'll wait until you can."

So we waited in that church as the light shifted from morning to afternoon. We waited in silent tears with occasional wailing that overcame us both like birth-pains. Then finally, as the dim half-life glow of twilight began to stream through the windows, he felt ready to speak.

"I..." he said with a sniffle, "I kill people." And the tears flowed like the rain during the days of Noah. He sobbed, "I kill them, and I make coats out of them. I can't help it! I line the in with hair and it feels so... right, but yet so wrong. So right on my skin, and so wrong on my everything else. What can I do?"

"Well," I pondered, "You could not kill someone tonight."

"You mean," he ejaculated, "I can do that?"

"Yes, my friend," I said with a smile, "you can do that."


So, my friends, he decided not to kill that night. I don't know if he didn't, all I know, as I speak in this white haze of clouds, is that he had a choice, and he made a decision and he was empowered for a moment. And that moment, my friend, was a moment like softball sized hail falling on a new car.