July 30, 2010

The Angry Russian, SeniorCitizenChurchLady, The Devil and their archivist are on a road trip to Branson, Missouri. Half an hour after our heros have stopped for provisions (i.e., Coffee Republic) the following conversation ensues:

SeniorCitizenChurchLady: I shouldn’t have had that milk.  I’m allergic to milk. It makes me cough and it makes me not be able to talk.

The Devil: Drink up!

The Angry Russian: Got milk?

In truth, SeniorCitizenChurchLady is a woman of great vocal fortitude.  Even coughing, milk allergies, and indirect insults do little to squelch her ample power of speech. As the miles and words pass, she begins to knit. As she knits, she talks incessantly. 

She says, “I can’t believe it has taken me this long to knit one little ole scarf! I can’t imagine anybody knitting an African!”

She talks at great length then about her scarf’s design. She wants to put “fluffy stuff” around the neck of what she’s knitting.  She describes this fluffy stuff in amazing detail. Then suddenly, in the same breath and apropos to nothing she turns to the archivist beside her and asks, “Do you understand my theology?”

The archivist raises an eyebrow, but does not lift her head from her writing as she says, “Um? Not at all.  But aside from that, I don’t think that’s the right word choice for this topic.”

SeniorCitizenChurchLady: Theology….that’s the study of….

The Devil: Theo?

Undaunted by the questions hanging in the air unanswered, SeniorCitizenChurchLady continues flinging out questions for the world to ponder:

“Do you know I learned three words when I was 5: theology, Czechoslovakia, complicated? My grandmother taught me how to spell ’em.  Now tell me why she would teach a kid that.  Can you tell me? And I can still spell them! Czechoslovakia: c-z-e-c-h-o-s-l-o-v-a-k-i-a. Why would anybody teach a kid that? At 5!?”

Somehow this leads to a soliloquy on the topic of scandalous everyday behaviors that the people in her church find offensive. This particular tangent concludes with, “Honey, they would talk about that from now until Jesus comes.”

Hours later, the archivist’s hand is hurting from trying to transcribe the details and her brain is hurting from trying to process it all. Exhausted she pleads, “Please stop talking to me.”

To which SeniorCitizenChurchLady replies, “No, I don’t think so.  I’m sorry, but that’s just not going to work. Let me tell you about Dolly Parton’s Dixie Stampede.  I think that place gave me my asthsma….”

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