Church Luvin'

He drew his hands and knees up to his nose to see if the smell from the sub-belfry floor attached. Yes, but barely. He knelt to the floor.

"SOMEBODY DONE PEED IN HEAH, TOO!!"

The smell in the closet was much more acrid than that in the sub-belfry.

"I'll be a SONUVABITCH. WHO DID THIS!!"

He snatched the pail and slammed the closet door shut. He noticed a dark stain on the clapboard flooring where the urine trailed from under the door.

"Where's that scrub brush?"

He went hunting through other closets in search of a brush to clean up the mess. As he opened the door to the third closet a familiar odor assailed him.

"SONUVABITCH!! NOT AGAIN!!

The following Sunday, Rev. Sanders opened services with prayer. He paused before launching into his weekly sermon.

"Befo' we gits started, I want to remind youse that we has a perfectly good outhouse out the back. I won't be offended if'n some of youse feel compelled to take a moment for yo'selves dur'n th' sermon. OUTSIDE. Feel free. THIS is the House of the Lawd."

Most of the congregants found this opening puzzling. Sanders felt confident that the culprit(s) heard his words and discerned his intent.

He hoped those nasty pissing bastards felt convicted in their spirits.

"Is NOTHIN' sacred? This is a CHURCH, GODDAMIT!!"

Up in the 'nigger' balcony, Beulah Thompkins caught Charlie Leone's eye with a sly double cheek poke.

Charlie smiled widely.

Downstairs in the white folks pews similar winks, cheek pokes, sniffles and sidelong glances were the order of the day.

Heedless of this backdrop, Rev. Sanders launched into his Sunday sermon.