CHAPTER 1
The church was quiet again. Hardy Fox, Cryptic Corporation owner, had finished listening to The Residents new album, The Ghost of Hope, packed up his laptop and headed to the coffee house down the street. Hardy liked hearing albums in churches. Charles Bobuck, one of the original song writers on the album had left an hour earlier. Bobuck had stopped being a member of The Residents and now swam around in his own sensations of the musical world.
Charles didn't enjoy hearing his writing that much, especially since these pieces were already three years old.
Father Peter, the guy who let everyone use his church, was alone, walking in a church hallway designed to be as bland as possible. He fantasized making the hall into an art gallery, but he knew he never would.
Father Peter stopped by the gathering room where the album listening had taken place earlier. Picking up the dirty coffee cups, he thought how depressing a half cup of cold coffee was. He grabbed the bag of left-over girl scout cookies and bit into one, but spit it back into his hand. He wondered what to do with them. Ants had been a plague of Biblical proportions this year. The rains were driving them inside. Millions of ants.
Peter rinsed the cups in the men's room and took them to his office with plans to carry them home later to wash properly. His office was quiet. In fact the entire building seemed unusually quiet. He thought that maybe it only seemed that way because earlier, the guys were playing The Ghost of Hope so loudly.
Peter reflected for a moment over his youth and how he had been a huge Residents fan. Duck Stab was all he had listened to for months when he was 13. He only listened to a bit of this new album from the doorway as he passed. He might have listened longer if Charles had not left early. Peter and Charles had become very close friends over the recent year. Hardy Fox was still in the strangers category to him. It was Charles that Peter had bonded with. That had started years ago when Peter revealed to Charles that he liked to wash people’s feet, like in the Bible.
Having a confidant was important to Peter He had been feeling conflicted. He kept finding himself at odds with the Pope and the President of the United States. Questioning one’s church and ones country did not fit his sense of what was right. Peter knew his congregation was made up of what President Trump would consider “illegals.” The entire valley was dependent upon undocumented workers to tend the vineyards. The local economy would collapse without them. Everyone was understandably scared so, sensibility, turned to the church to give them comfort. Peter told them not to worry, but lacked confidence that Trump cronies wouldn’t come breaking down the doors of churches that try to offer sanctuary to the hard working people.
He saw too much similarities between the gold loving Trump and the gold loving Pope, both out of touch with what an actual human has to deal with every day to get by. They didn’t see the anguish that they caused looking down from their pretentious thrones.
Peter often thought he should give up representing God but knew that too many people depended on him. No one blamed him for what was going on at the White House. But still, he felt guilty and responsible.
That wasn’t the only problem. Ironic though it might seem, Peter maybe had a ghost. At least the church maybe had a ghost, and it certainly seemed like it was not the Holy Ghost he so often talked about, or even the Ghost of Hope that The Residents liked to go on about. Perhaps this wasn’t a ghost at all. Perhaps Peter the Priest was losing his mind.
==================================
Peter asked Charles Bobuck to help explain this naked man question and Charles showed up the next afternoon, clearly intrigued, with his clipboard ready to go.
He immediately launched into his list of explanations.
Charles Bobuck started explaining his list.
"1. It is all a dream and you wake up screaming at any moment now.” At that, both broke the tension with laughter.
“2. You are making it up to get attention.” Charles rolled up his eyes to look suspiciously at Peter.
"I don't fit the profile for someone who needs a lot of attention," suggested Peter. But Charles reminded him that religious zealots WERE the profile. They both laughed again.
“3. This church is built on an old Indian burial ground.” Peter smiled and suggested that asking him for help was not a great idea.
“4. God is testing you.” Peter shot him a questioning look. “That is something I hear Christians say when tragedy happens. But then again, I think it is only Protestants that say it.”
“5. You are losing your mind.”
Peter thought about what proof he might offer. He took him to see the stain the rock left on the rug to prove it really happened. Charles looked at it and said, “That looks like blood to me.” Peter was prepared to laugh again, but Charles was serious this time.
“And you have an ant problem,” he drawled pointing to a ribbon of ants crossing the floor. The ribbon disappeared under the door leading to the small room containing the organ bellows.
Peter mumbled, “Oh shit.”
Charles took one sniff of the foul odor and didn’t hesitate, he did not place his foot 6 to 8 inches from the door to block a rain-suited man. He just opened the door. There on the floor was the stone covered with ants.
Charles looked at Peter and said, “I think I found your rock.” Then he looked closer and nudged it with his finger. As ants scattered, he looked at Peter and announced, “Congratulations, your rock is a piece of liver. LIVER.”
Peter plopped down onto the pew and said, "I better call the sheriff."
Charles said, "Wait just a minute. Let me make sure the liver is still there."
Peter yelled to him, "Take a picture with your phone and we will send it to the deputy."
Charlie stopped at the door of the room, and slowly whispered, "Peter, I think you better see this."
=============
The church was quiet again. Hardy Fox, Cryptic Corporation owner, had finished listening to The Residents new album, The Ghost of Hope, packed up his laptop and headed to the coffee house down the street. Hardy liked hearing albums in churches. Charles Bobuck, one of the original song writers on the album had left an hour earlier. Bobuck had stopped being a member of The Residents and now swam around in his own sensations of the musical world.
Charles didn't enjoy hearing his writing that much, especially since these pieces were already three years old.
Father Peter, the guy who let everyone use his church, was alone, walking in a church hallway designed to be as bland as possible. He fantasized making the hall into an art gallery, but he knew he never would.
Father Peter stopped by the gathering room where the album listening had taken place earlier. Picking up the dirty coffee cups, he thought how depressing a half cup of cold coffee was. He grabbed the bag of left-over girl scout cookies and bit into one, but spit it back into his hand. He wondered what to do with them. Ants had been a plague of Biblical proportions this year. The rains were driving them inside. Millions of ants.
Peter rinsed the cups in the men's room and took them to his office with plans to carry them home later to wash properly. His office was quiet. In fact the entire building seemed unusually quiet. He thought that maybe it only seemed that way because earlier, the guys were playing The Ghost of Hope so loudly.
Peter reflected for a moment over his youth and how he had been a huge Residents fan. Duck Stab was all he had listened to for months when he was 13. He only listened to a bit of this new album from the doorway as he passed. He might have listened longer if Charles had not left early. Peter and Charles had become very close friends over the recent year. Hardy Fox was still in the strangers category to him. It was Charles that Peter had bonded with. That had started years ago when Peter revealed to Charles that he liked to wash people’s feet, like in the Bible.
Having a confidant was important to Peter He had been feeling conflicted. He kept finding himself at odds with the Pope and the President of the United States. Questioning one’s church and ones country did not fit his sense of what was right. Peter knew his congregation was made up of what President Trump would consider “illegals.” The entire valley was dependent upon undocumented workers to tend the vineyards. The local economy would collapse without them. Everyone was understandably scared so, sensibility, turned to the church to give them comfort. Peter told them not to worry, but lacked confidence that Trump cronies wouldn’t come breaking down the doors of churches that try to offer sanctuary to the hard working people.
He saw too much similarities between the gold loving Trump and the gold loving Pope, both out of touch with what an actual human has to deal with every day to get by. They didn’t see the anguish that they caused looking down from their pretentious thrones.
Peter often thought he should give up representing God but knew that too many people depended on him. No one blamed him for what was going on at the White House. But still, he felt guilty and responsible.
That wasn’t the only problem. Ironic though it might seem, Peter maybe had a ghost. At least the church maybe had a ghost, and it certainly seemed like it was not the Holy Ghost he so often talked about, or even the Ghost of Hope that The Residents liked to go on about. Perhaps this wasn’t a ghost at all. Perhaps Peter the Priest was losing his mind.
| Yesterday he first noticed a stone. He noticed it on the altar and assumed that someone had come in to pray and left it there because it had some personal significance. Out of respect for this imagined intent, he did not move it. Peter thought it rather pretty, the kind of black shiny stone one would see in a rock shop. He didn't think too much more about it. Later that evening as Peter the Priest made a final pass through the nave before going home for the day, he noticed a man sitting in the front row. The man looked like a local. He was wearing a yellow rain suit, a look which had gotten to be a common sight as the rains continued to fall. The man did have an intensity about him that made Peter pause to wonder if he should leave him to his thoughts or stroll over to offer support for some issue he might be focused on. Peter knew that his job was to offer support, not to leave people alone, talking about issues was a big part of what a priest did. Part psychologist, part witch doctor. Priests are taught to approach people in contemplation with a bit of flourish so as not to startle them. Slowly swinging into the mans visible range, Peter approached him, but there was no acknowledgment from the yellow suit. So Peter stopped about ten feet away. Priests are also taught to analyze people, their looks, gestures, speaking patterns. Peter instinctual thought, male, mid-thirties, eyes unfocused, possibly on drugs. Then he realized the man was holding the stone from the altar. A quick glance back at the altar confirmed it was no longer there. Instead, there appeared to be a black flat shape that was undulating. Ants. Where the stone had been was now covered in ants. Long streams of ants went up the side of the altar and climbed on the candles and the crucifix. Peter felt a little apprehension at getting any closer, the stone could be used as a weapon. Like many small poor towns, meth had gained a hold of some of its fringe inhabitants. A closer inspection revealed that he wore no shirt under the rain wear and he was barefoot. Peter thought; no shoes, no shirt, no service. Still the man had not acknowledged that anyone was in the room with him. Peter spoke softly to him, “Good evening.” Shocked, the stranger turned to him with big eyes that were full of pain and fear. Dropping the stone he ran for the nearest door, but the door he chose was only to a small maintenance room for the organ bellows intake and led nowhere. Priests were also taught not to approach a cornered and potentially wounded animal, especially if it was human. So Peter called for backup. The town has no police of its own so the call was to the county sheriff. It was not the first call the priest had made to the sheriff. The public doesn't realize the number of questionable characters that come to the church when troubled. Many churches locked their doors at night, but Peter still kept the nave open all the time even though it was not monitored. In the last ten years had had only had a small bit of vandalism and nothing stolen. The sheriff's office said a deputy was on the way. Peter sat down in the front pew to wait. He noticed the stone laying on the floor nearby. Ants were already making their way to it. Peter knew not to touch anything. He heard that on crime shows all the time. Don’t touch anything. |
| When the deputy arrived, Peter recognized him as an officer he had dealt with before when an angry drug addled teenager had blamed him for his father kicking him out of the house. The situation was quickly explained. The deputy neared the door and called to the man, saying he was a police officer and only wanted to talk. He loudly told the man that he was going to slowly open the door and that he should stay calm, he was not there to hurt him. And with that the deputy placed his foot about six or eight inches in front of the door. If the guy tried to burst through the door the foot placement would prevent the door from opening wide enough to allow escape. The deputy opened the door all the while calmly giving reassuring support to whatever the man was going through. "We all have bad days, but there are always solutions to problems." No one charged out. So the officer peeked inside then swung open the door. The room was empty, except for an abandoned yellow rain suit. Peter realized that the suit was his own that he kept in the little room for emergencies. The space was the size of a walk-in closet and had no windows, there was no place to hide and no way to escape. The officer turned to Peter and suggested that the guy must have slipped away before he had arrived. Peter agreed, since no other explanation was satisfying. The priest knew that he had sat waiting for the sheriff with a clear view of the door and the door had never opened. The deputy chuckled, “Looks like you have ants like the rest of us.” He pointed to a dark spot on the rug that was covered with small black ants. It was the spot where earlier, the stone had been dropped. The stone was gone as well. Peter pondered momentarily whether he should risk sounding crazy before launching into telling the story from the beginning. The altar, the stone, the ants, the man, the yellow rain-suit... he told everything he could think of. The deputy listened calmly, and then added, “You have yourself a real mystery here.” He gave Peter his direct number. Peter felt no comfort from the sheriff's visit. |
==================================
Peter asked Charles Bobuck to help explain this naked man question and Charles showed up the next afternoon, clearly intrigued, with his clipboard ready to go.
He immediately launched into his list of explanations.
Charles Bobuck started explaining his list.
"1. It is all a dream and you wake up screaming at any moment now.” At that, both broke the tension with laughter.
“2. You are making it up to get attention.” Charles rolled up his eyes to look suspiciously at Peter.
"I don't fit the profile for someone who needs a lot of attention," suggested Peter. But Charles reminded him that religious zealots WERE the profile. They both laughed again.
“3. This church is built on an old Indian burial ground.” Peter smiled and suggested that asking him for help was not a great idea.
“4. God is testing you.” Peter shot him a questioning look. “That is something I hear Christians say when tragedy happens. But then again, I think it is only Protestants that say it.”
“5. You are losing your mind.”
Peter thought about what proof he might offer. He took him to see the stain the rock left on the rug to prove it really happened. Charles looked at it and said, “That looks like blood to me.” Peter was prepared to laugh again, but Charles was serious this time.
“And you have an ant problem,” he drawled pointing to a ribbon of ants crossing the floor. The ribbon disappeared under the door leading to the small room containing the organ bellows.
Peter mumbled, “Oh shit.”
Charles took one sniff of the foul odor and didn’t hesitate, he did not place his foot 6 to 8 inches from the door to block a rain-suited man. He just opened the door. There on the floor was the stone covered with ants.
Charles looked at Peter and said, “I think I found your rock.” Then he looked closer and nudged it with his finger. As ants scattered, he looked at Peter and announced, “Congratulations, your rock is a piece of liver. LIVER.”
Peter plopped down onto the pew and said, "I better call the sheriff."
Charles said, "Wait just a minute. Let me make sure the liver is still there."
Peter yelled to him, "Take a picture with your phone and we will send it to the deputy."
Charlie stopped at the door of the room, and slowly whispered, "Peter, I think you better see this."
=============