It was a fearful time!
I feared the black-hooded nun who looked like the Grim Reaper.
I felt as if my balls were in a wine press.
My nun's sadistic smile broadens with each painful turn of the hideous crank!
I endure shame and tears.
It's just Mom, me, and the evil nun.
Dad was gone, tending bar.
He loomed dangerously, in my future.
My religion book had sideline notes, I had written...
blaspheming Jesus and all His Saints.
"Sinful" artwork depicted holy men and women as beatniks and prostitutes.
Cigarettes were dangling from their mouths, and their hands gripped whiskey bottles. "Didn't Jesus love the sinners?"
In my defense, my heart silently screamed this logic.
The sweet nun presented a showcase of confiscated items from inside my humble desk. We all looked at the pornography, rubber band guns, matches, cigarettes, condoms...all the things little boys love, but cannot share with the "big people". My mom coldly stared at me as she whisked me out of the office, roughly dragging me by my arm into the streets. I cried a stream of "alligator tears" to save my ass! All Mom said to me for the rest of that evening was, "Wait till your father gets home!" The verdict was in! The minutes were hours now. My execution was only hours away.
from: "The Journey...Memoirs of a South Side Chicago kind of guy."...available on Amazon.com
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