Kevin Allison's True Stories: Growing Up Godly
A comedy article
by Kevin Allison  808  2
08/05/2009 06:58 PM 1405 views
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I was raised Catholic. Very Catholic.
In the spring of my eighth grade year, I entered an essay contest. It was the principal's idea. This was Sister Adriana, who was obsessed with the meek and mild mother of Jesus, and who was the single most rage-filled person I have ever known. She'd grab and hurl kids into walls. She'd tear into us like an exorcist driving out devils over the PA system. Even her dusty wig was wound too tight. To friends, I called her "the Lord of Hoth." I'm sure you recall how the novelization of The Empire Strikes Back referred to Vader that way.
This is what she looked like on a good day.
Sister Adriana's regime took power when I was in the sixth grade. I first met her when she stormed into our noisy classroom, lined all of us kids against the wall like prisoners before a firing squad and launched into her best Joan Crawford. I stooped out of the lineup for a split second and she barked at me demanding to know why.
"I dropped my pencil," I said.
She must have broken a blood vessel in her cerebellum. "YOU WANT YOUR PENCIL?! I'LL GIVE YOU YOUR PENCIL! I'M NOT EVEN GONNA GIVE YOU YOUR PENCIL!!!"
It was a lesson in how frightening nonsense can be.
This is the dear soul who thought all the eighth graders should compete in an essay contest about "what Mary means to you." It was a chance for any kid who paid attention to parrot back what he'd been told Mary should mean to him. I excelled at that sort of thing. Here's a bit of my essay.
Mother, I think, is the best name for Mary. She suffered and took the burdens that history depended on and yet She was and is as human as any young girl, mother, or elderly lady. Mary lays her hands on people and soothes.
Mamma mia.
There's a good little gay boy who knows what very Catholic women want to hear. And the handwriting could hardly be rounder. That's my problem with my Catholic upbringing today. There were so many adults putting such an emphasis on being meek, polite, agreeable, and "good," that most of my true instincts got lost in the Glynda the Goodwitch glare.
The highlight of my Mary essay comes toward the end. I knew that one of Sister Adriana's favorite prayers was the one called "Memorare."
I once got my finger stuck in a very small hole. I was home all alone and the finger was very tightly caught. I did everything I could but could not pry loose and my finger was getting cut, turning purple and numb. I reached for the phone and got a hold of my mother at work and she said I may have to go to the hospital. Then the Memorare went through my head and I said it out loud, "For never was it known that anyone who implored thy help was left unaided." And I was freed.
I won the contest. I got thirty dollars and read the piece to the whole school at mass. But there's a lie in the story. Not the part about the prayer. I sure as hell did pray. And I really did get out of that jam the moment I uttered those words. I was such a good boy, I even forgave the Blessed Mother weeks later when, at one of my dreaded basketball games, the same prayer did nothing to propel my lay-ups into the hoop.
No, the lie was that I did not get my finger caught in "a hole." I'd been playing with my older sister's jewelry. At home all alone, I'd been weirding it up like the batty Queen of Hearts in Wonderland. The hole was a ring. I got a big girly ring with a fake pink sapphire stuck on my finger. I'd been a bad boy.
Like this, but gayer.
For about a half hour, I watched my finger turn colors as it lost all sensation. I shot around the house looking for pliers, scissors, anything to pry the thing off. But not only was I afraid of losing the finger, I was desperate to avoid going to the hospital like some bozo with a gerbil up his butt. So desperate that, finally, I carved into my finger with a butcher knife to get the bastard off. The prayer might have given me confidence, but the ring slid off on the blood.
Anyway, it could have been worse. I could have prayed to Sister Adriana.
"YOU WANT YOUR FINGER?! I'LL GIVE YOU YOUR FINGER! I'M NOT EVEN GONNA GIVE YOU YOUR FINGER!!!"
Do you have a "Growing Up Godly" story? Submit it as a ZUG Article and title it "Growing Up Godly: _____________." You might be invited to contribute to my upcoming podcast of dangerous stories, daringly told called RISK! Visit risk-show.com. The first season of RISK! will include Marc Maron, Michael Ian Black, Michael Showalter, David Wain, Janeane Garofalo, Keith Powell, Rachel Dratch and more. Click here to submit your story!
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Like This? Rate It!
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Hilarious
19 votes
4.3
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Hilarious
2 votes
4.5
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A Summer Sweaty Ass......HAT 2,009  3
08/05/2009 07:44 PM
"I dropped my pencil," I said.
Isn't that what you also said to Father Patrick?
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0 votes
0.0
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Reverend Dave Rodriguez 2,330 0
08/05/2009 08:00 PM
This just reminded me of when I went to Fr. Damien High School in LaVerne, Ca. I had a Fr. Cronin who taught English. His likeness is now seen as the same Fr. Cronin from the Bernie Mac Show, where the nephew goes to Damien Elementary, and Fr. Cronin is the Dean of Discipline. I hear the producer, David Wetmore was a Damien student, so it's the same guy.
I know. Must be my funniest post ever.
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0 votes
0.0
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peoriagrace 5,962 9
08/06/2009 10:49 AM
My favorite so far Kevin.
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0 votes
0.0
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Bill the Squirrel 25,537 8
08/06/2009 04:37 PM
I'm sure you recall how the novelization of The Empire Strikes Back referred to Vader that way.
So, let me get this straight, you're a fag AND a geek?
Great story, 5 for you.
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Chuckleworthy
2 votes
2.5
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Count Ravos 34,425 10
08/06/2009 04:40 PM
Also, I think that was Bill's way of asking you on a date.
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0 votes
0.0
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Whistler P. McManus 141,711 23
08/06/2009 05:30 PM
Now that I'm gay, I have a total man-crush on Kevin Allison.
Oh, yeah! I have something to tell you guys. Remind me later.
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0 votes
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Count Ravos 34,425 10
08/06/2009 06:46 PM
Oh, yeah! I have something to tell you guys. Remind me later.
Is it that Declan hacked your account, or that the alzheimers is kickin' in?
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Chuckleworthy
2 votes
2.5
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Mr Crabs 276 3
08/06/2009 08:54 PM
...that's what playing the fife means! It's all so clear now.
Nice job Kevin.
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Chuckleworthy
1 votes
2.0
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Phuc 231,372 13
08/07/2009 12:22 AM
I was dancing naked because all my clothes were at the laundromat.
And I was cleaning that crucifix.
...with Astroglide.
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