God, Please Have a Sense of Humor...

So there I was. In church. Your hero is Catholic - you know that, right? Goes to Mass, more or less as he ought. Not much to confess, not because he is so good - because he is so boring.

And you probably also know, if you follow this blog, that the Wigster is a proud member of the Knights of Columbus. That's a fine fraternal insurance company - er, I mean organization that is set up to provide help to the needy, wear silly hats, and drink beer after meetings. These are fine things; we approve.

Our local chapter, here in Wilson, North Carolina, decides from time to time to perform the religious service of leading the congregation in praying the Rosary before every Mass for a month or so. This is to keep Catholics from coming to church too early - if you get there much before Mass begins, you have to kneel down and fish out your Rosary beads and so on. Otherwise, everybody thinks you are lost, looking for the neighborhood FWB church. And if you don't know what FWB is, you don't live in the South.

So, we take it in turns, this leading of the congregation in praying the Rosary before Mass. And last Sunday was your hero's turn. Yikes! I kept wishing I'd get whooping cough or bubonic plague or something catastrophic just beforehand, but it didn't happen - so I had to actually go through with it.

You know the Rosary, right? No? Well, it kinda goes like this (don't worry, you won't burst into flames for reading this - as far as I know):

Hail Mary, full of grace, blessed art Thou among women and blessed is the fruit of Thy womb, Jesus.

And then the congregation says:

Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us now and at the hour of our death, amen.

Cheerful little ditty, ain't it?

The idea is, you say this about eleventy-dozen times, with some other stuff stuck into the middle of it, but this is the main bit. And I am supposed to say the first part, and the congregation waits until I'm done and then they say the second part. With me so far? Come on, it's not that hard.

Well, your Wiggy is not such a good counter. I'm supposed to go to eleventy-dozen, but I always stop at some, or many, or lots. I lose count and go over or under by some obvious amount, something that people would notice.

But Mrs. Wiggy is always there for her man! She sat next to me in the front pew, and she kept count, and she jabbed me in the ribs when I got to eleventy-dozen on the nose, so I knew what to say next.

And it worked, too.

Except for one little bit.

Naturally.

For me, that is.

I got about one bubble off plumb, and I started out by saying "Holy Mary, mother of God" instead of "Hail Mary, full of grace." Now, you can get sent directly to Hell for this stuff. People take it way seriously. You're not supposed to laugh, smirking is right out. A chuckle in the wrong place could get a red-hot poker up your radish-hole in the afterlife. So, I tried to correct myself...

"Holy Mar...Hail Mary, full of grace," I intoned, trying to cover my mistake by slurring like I'd been on a three-day bender. Surely people would understand that, for God's sake. I mean, we're Catholics in North Carolina! Reason enough to drink, we're under observation at all times.

Well, I finished that Rosary up in fine shape, though I was sweating bullets. And no sooner had I gotten done, than the music started and in comes our priest, and I was truly grateful.

But then, after church ended, as Mrs. Wiggy and I made our departure...She told me the awful truth.

She asked me,

"Do you know what you said in there?"

"Sure. I made a mistake. I tried to say 'Hail Mary' and 'Holy Mary' at the same time, and it got crossed up. You nudged me and I corrected myself."

"No, you didn't."

"I didn't?"

"No."

"So...what did I say, then?"

"You said...'Hairy Male, Mother of God!'"

And with that, my delicate, lovely, lady-like wife; my darling, my lover and my confidant - laughed at me. In my face. Until tears came out of her eyes.

Hairy Male.

Lovely.

I'm going to hell, and she's laughing at me.

I need a beer.

Pray For Me,

Wiggy