Buddy and the Pastor - A Brief Encounter

"You are a fornicator, a man of low morals and ungodly ways......." Pastor Angers stood legs spread, back straight blocking Buddy Dilkens and his weekly 24 ounce Papst Blue Ribbon can of beer from making a safe and quiet exit from the Tradin Post. Buddy moved to the side attemping to squeeze his way by the good pastor. Preacher Angers stuck his arm out. He was having none of it. Buddy was in his cross hairs. His massive bulk seemed to shrivel under the pastor's righteously indignant glare.

Buddy regarded the small man who stood his ground in front of him. Not many men would dare. His shoulders drooped and he sighed. "Yes Preacher Man, I am surely a sinner, a fornicator and a disgrace in the eyes of the Lord Jesus. No amount of penance will save me from the fires of Hell".

Buddy smiled. 

 "Now that I am lost, all I can do now is enjoy it while I can before I meet the Devil. ........ Excuse me Preacher, I have kids at home tearing something a new asshole." He pushed past Pastor Angers and walked out into the torrential rain bouncing off the parking lot.

Pastor Angers flung one final barb. "You know God took your wife because of your sins."

Buddy stopped. He straightened his back and turned to face the pastor. The rain ran down his face in rivulets adding to Buddy's already fearsome image. The pastor's asshole puckered some and he swallowed hard. But he held his ground and his lock on Buddy's hard cold glaring eyes.

Pastor or no, the old Buddy, the Buddy who raised Hell 24/7 when he was younger; the old Buddy would have beat that pastor down. But that five year stint in stir for manslaughter and the love of a good woman had worked their magic on Buddy. Buddy's eyes softened, he grinned and said,

"You have yourself a nice day Pastor Angers and when you get a chance, please go fuck yourself."

Buddy turned around, headed to his pick up, got in and drove off. Meanwhile the pastor who was not used to being spoken to in such an ungodly and uncivilized manner stood staring at Buddy's truck disappearing in the hard rain and for once was caught with nothing to say. 

Meanwhile, the usual crowd of good ole boys who always congregated here at the Tradin Post at days end on their way home, broke out in loud laughter. Some even slapped their knees.

(Orig -11/6/11)

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I started this short fiction piece in November, 2011. I wrote the first paragraph and left the room allowing the piece to languish for 11 years. When I located it today as I was trying to toss out the drafts that had absolutely no hope of ever being finished, I almost tossed this one. I have no idea where I intended it to go when I first wrote it. I re-read that paragraph and decided I needed to at the least finish it in some way, some how, if only resulting in a story covering a small snippet of time. 

Keep it tween the ditches ..................................

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Music for this, hmm ........................... Found a fairly new indie artist, Sharkorama, who began creating music in his basement during the Covid invasion. "Righteous Indignation" is the name of the song.