The Knights of Columbus

About this time, the members of St. Anthony’s Knights of Columbus council decided to intervene. Their pastor was rattled by a series of accusations and now his hands were sticky with too much evidence and not enough excuses. The bishop was coming to determine whether the parish was economically “viable” for being included in the pastoral plan that would fold a number of local parishes into one entity, all being forced to attend Mass at the gigantically phallic St. Rita Church across town. The cardinal’s men had been around for the entire week, harrying the BINGO-players, razzing the altar boys, insinuating themselves into the PCCW Tuesday Luncheon (Jello mayonaisse salad with melba toast), trying to prize information from anyone and everyone who would talk. Worst of all, the kegerator in the Knight’s Hall was on the fritz again – and this time it looked as if it was going to escape its mortal refrigeration coil once and for all.  Realizing with that uncanny sort of  knowledge (the kind you just can’t get in a can) that things were coming to a head and the approaching storm would no doubt break over their own uncapped heads  just as the weekend’s “Blowfest” – St. Anthony’s fundraising bizarre – would be hitting its full stride, to a man the Knights of Columbus Monsignor Alan De Beers Council #101 decided to act quickly, decisively and with unanimiity. Whipped into a froth of resigned excitement, as only one can after finally and fully engaging in a matter of grave concern, they let Father know that he could count on them.  Appearing after Mass on the steps of St. Anthony’s where Father was greeting the enemic crowd of worshippers, for their part, they said, although not wont to undertake unilateral initiatives as a regular council policy, mind you, in this one case, in this one instance, desperate and dire as circumstances were,  they would, with his permission, agree to keep the beer tent open until 9 p.m, instead of, as in years past, the customary 7:35 p.m.

Comments

  1. Matthew Lickona says

    My Lord – it’s serious, then.

  2. Serious doesn’t really get at it quite the way the Latin “gravis” does – deadly and heavy all at once. I heard, though, that the parish called in psychiatrists – to prevent an even greater tragedy. The fear is that someone might become uncorked from all the, um, bottled up emotions.

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