The Church Police

It was a pleasant late November Sunday morning, circa 2012. It was the one day of the week in which I didn't have to be a garbage man or work at the Kwick E Mart. I sat down in my beat up old chair and opened up the Sunday paper.

"Dear Bajahi!" I exclaimed as I read the head line of the front page: "Pat Powell from Southern Maryland is elected first female president after a landslide election."

"Aw shit," I thought. "I knew I should have voted." While I was pondering on this, two men suddenly smashed in through the flimsy front door of my shack. They were both dressed like storm troopers from Star Wars.

"Who the hell are you?!" I shouted territorily as I grabbed my shotgun. The two pointed heavy laser blasters at me and I dropped my weapon.

"We are the Church Police," said one of them in a robotic voice. "Under the new law of the lord Powell, every US citizen must attend a Sunday worship service at his or her local Catholic church."

"What?!" I protested. "What happened to religious freedom, the separation of church and state and the trivia pursuit of..." Before I could finish talking one of them sprayed mace in my eyes while the other whacked me with a night stick. The next thing I knew, I was inside some large police van. There were about a dozen other grumbling non-church goers inside.

Soon the van reached the local Catholic church which now had thousands of people in attendance. Church Police were every where making sure that no one would dare escape. To get into the church there was an incredibly long line that moved very slowly. Every one in the whole area, even the most irreverant, were standing inline.

Once I finally got close to the door of the church I realized the line had been moving so slow because there were several doctors at the door dealing out high dosages of Prozac to sedate people. A few minutes after anyone entered he or she would become like mindless obedient zombies.

"Fools," I thought. After taking Prozac for several years, I was quite immune to it's affects.

"This will only hurt a bit," said one of the doctors as he dealt me the shot.

"Whatever," I snickered as I thought up a plan. While I was walking into the vestibule of the church, a teenage boy attempted to break the line and escape. But before he could get more than a few yards he was shot down with stun rays. With the Church Police distracted, I bolted toward the stair way that led to the organ loft.

Once I reached the top, I found the organ player seated at the organ. I crept up slowly behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. He reeled around in startelment as I dealt him a heavy blow to his temple. Next I barricaded the door to loft with several heavy objects and sat down in front of the organ. It was a massive cathedral organ with dozens of pipes.

Looking out over the balcony of the loft, I saw that the service was about to begin. I felt like I was in the Death Star because there were so many Church Police in white plastic armour at every exit. The priest stepped up to the pulpit with a very pleased expression. It was the highest attendance he had ever seen.

"Good morning," the priest began.

"Good morning," replied the congregation in a mindless unison.

"Welcome to Immaculate Reception church," continued the priest. "The bible reading for today is,'A loose tongue can get you into tight places.' Our opening hymn is in honor of lord Powell."

The quire began to sing when suddenly they were drowned out by me on the huge organ. I played 'Light My Fire' louder and more precise than I ever had before. The priest screamed out orders as Church Police rushed hither and thither. I continued playing while the Police tried to break through my barricade.

I pounded down the last cord of the song as several Church Police busted into the loft. I hurled the organ bench at them and leapt off the balcony. I hit the floor hard and sprained my ankle. Me tried to limp away but before I could get more than a few feet I was shot from every direction with stun rays.

When I came to some time later, I found myself lying in a mental hospital bed. Looking up at a mirror on the ceiling, I noticed a line of stitches going across my temple.

TO BE CONTINUED