Mondays with Langford



  Mondays with Langford

  by

  Johnny Rivas

  copyright 1995 Johnny Rivas

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  The church stood in triumphant majesty under the clear morning sky, basking in the glory of its righteousness. To look upon it caused both physical pain and artistic ecstasy; to me it would always be forbidden. What marvelous sights awaited me within? Would today be the day I would finally find out? Contrary to popular belief I am as impatient as any mortal. I'm just a little better at hiding it.

  As I had done many times before, I finally talked myself into crossing the street to get a better look. No one appeared to be about, but I knew that Father Langford would be lying in wait. It was our Monday morning ritual, something to look forward to.

  I reached the other side of the street when I noticed the clouds forming above the church. It never failed. No matter what the weather, rain, snow or shine, He always brought those accursed clouds out of nowhere whenever I approached a church. I craned my head back and faced the sky.

  "What is it with You, anyway?" I asked Him. "Can't I just get a better look? What did I ever do to You?"

  A bolt of lightning sprang forth from the cloud and struck me in the chest, hurling me into the street. Have you ever been smacked by a bolt of lightning? Imagine something more painful than country music and you might understand the agony of which I speak. I slowly rose to my feet with all the dignity I could muster, brushing the dirt from my clothes and ignoring the pain that jolted through my temporal body and the smoke that wafted from my attire. I noted that a large portion of my suit had been charred away, including a fantastic tie that I had spent hours picking out. I turned to the sky again, chastised.

  "Okay, so it was a bad joke," I admitted, "but look what you did to my favorite suit. You know my tailor has Mondays off."

  "Begone, unclean demon!" shouted Father Langford from the doorway of the church. Hunched in his tacky black outfit with the little white square in the collar, he partially hid himself behind one of the massive metal doors as if worried that I would suddenly break out an AK-47 and commence target practice . His bald head was almost mirror-like in quality, and his short chubby body almost quivered with fear. "Begone before you feel the wrath of the Almighty again, you filthy wretch!"

  "You know, Father," I noted, "you really should do something about that weight problem. Not only is it unsightly, but it ain't very healthy to boot. If you're not careful you'll be sitting at the right hand of you-know-who before your time." I gestured to the heavens with my thumb.

  "How many times must I tell you?" demanded Langford. "It's Monsignor now, you evil fiend! MONSIGNOR!"

  I slapped my forehead in disgust. "That's right! Why do I keep forgetting that?"

  "Because you are as absent-minded as you are evil," replied Father, er, Monsignor Langford. He always had an annoying habit of stating the obvious. "And you enjoy taunting me," he added pathetically.

  "Not true," I argued. "I think I'm getting senile with age. This wasn't exactly a chosen profession, and I've started doing it before dirt was invented." I made a few steps toward the church. The cloud rumbled an ominous warning, so I stopped. I shot the cloud an annoyed look and then returned my attention to my victim. "Hey, Monsignor, let's go for a walk. I promise to behave."

  "Hah!" exclaimed the Monsignor. "Last time you said that, you took me to that nude beach and left me stranded without any clothing."

  "You exaggerate," I replied. "I didn't touch your rosary."

  "Of course not! You wouldn't dare."

  "Well, that's entirely beside the point. You found your clothes a few minutes later next to that tree. At least no one recognized you."

  "No one from my congregation would go to one of those, those, immoral places."

  "Ooh, immoral places. I like that one."

  The good Monsignor reached into his pocket and produced a large cross. "Enough of this! I said begone and I mean it!"

  The relic sent pain jolting throughout my temporal body. My arms flew up defensively as I staggered back. "Hey, that hurts, Father! I mean..."

  "MON-SIG-NOR!" screamed Langford, almost leaping with rage. "Now leave before I get the holy water!"

  "All right, all right," I said, retreating to the other side of the street. "See you next week?"

  "Not if I can help it," growled the priest. He turned and stormed into the church.

  "You can!" I yelled after him. My voice echoed into the church doorway, followed by a long silence. Langford couldn't fool me, though, I knew he had stopped. I soon heard the shuffle of his feet returning to the entrance. His plump bald head peered out and looked at me.

  "What do you mean?" he asked timidly.

  "How would you like that, Monsignor?" I said with a grin, stepping toward the church again. "How would you like to never have to see me again?"

  Langford stepped out of the church completely and crossed his arms. His eyes narrowed with suspicion. "You really think I am foolish enough to make a deal with you?"

  I cocked my eyes and defensively raised my hands. "Monsignor, I am insulted," I replied. "I assure you the price is something you can afford. Just think: I will never step near this church again."

  "And what do I have to do?" he asked, sighing as if he were running out of patience. That was when I knew that I had him.

  "Nothing at all," I said nonchalantly, picking some lint from my sleeve. "Just invite me into the church."

  Langford looked at me like I just slapped Jesus. "ME, allow YOU into HERE?" he demanded, pointing the cross from his pudgy chest to me to his church. His face turned crimson with fury. "NEVER!" he bellowed.

  "Aw, c'mon, uh, Monsignor. I just want to look around. You let me in for five minutes, just five minutes, and you and I are through." I flashed my winning grin, two rows of perfect teeth that could not be refused. "I think you're getting a real bargain. Five minutes of my company in exchange for freedom from me for the rest of your life."

  Langford craned his head to the sky, which was now as tranquil as a sleeping bunny. He made the same mistake I have seen so many others make, taking silence for approval. Langford didn't realize that God was allowing Langford to decide for himself. Langford turned to me after a moment of contemplation. He showed me a vial of holy water that had been in his pants pocket. "You stay in there for one second over five minutes and you get a shower you will not soon forget," he warned.

  "Fair enough," I said, walking toward the steps. The clouds did not return. That's what I love about Him, He's always so consistent. Langford noticed it too, and he appeared to have second thoughts. "Tell you what," I offered, "we'll make it three minutes, eh?"

  Langford looked at me warily for a moment, and then slumped his shoulders with a sigh. He gestured into the church. "After you," he said. "Don't touch anything. Let's just get this over with."

  "As you wish," I said, excited that I was finally getting a gander at the building's interior. I skipped through the doorway and beheld the forbidden sights.

  Oh, how I love the architecture. The high ceilings, the beams and pillars, the stain glass windows. The intricate carvings and imposing statues took my breath away. I walked toward the altar, hands clasped to my chest in absolute rapture. The colossal figure of His son nailed to the cross in all its gory splendor was almost too much for me. I fell to my knees before the a
ltar, the sunlight filtering through the stain glass and bathing me in color. It didn't get much better that this.

  "Get away from there," said Langford testily. "You're too close to the altar."

  I ignored him and turned to the tabernacle. I believe it is supposed to resemble the original Ark of the Covenant, but if memory serves me correctly the resemblance isn't even close. Regardless, I could no longer resist. I dashed to the small cabinet and flung it open. I hardly heard Langford's screams of rage as I tore open the package of holy bread and started chowing down. I simply cannot resist the bland wafers. After all, it isn't every day that I get to eat the body of Christ, you know?

  I stopped momentarily when I felt cool liquid spray against the back of my neck. Langford had just splashed me with his vial of holy water, which under normal circumstances would have seared like molten steel. Of course, since the fool had invited me into his church he no longer had any powers from Above. I turned to face the Monsignor, extremely satisfied with his expression of horror as he beheld my visage.

  The holy bread was bleeding from my mouth, messily dripping down my chin. My eyes glowed with the radiance of Hell itself. The color of my skin shifted as the familiar horns and tail slowly emerged from their confinement.

  Langford shrieked and backed away from me, holding his cross before him. I chuckled at the sight that normally sent me cowering for shelter. It was more than the priest could bear. He spun around and ran for the large entrance doors, which promptly slammed shut before he could reach them. He reached for the handles and frantically tried to pull them open. Langford could have pulled all day and night, but his arms would have fallen off before I would have let those doors open again. The monsignor gradually turned to face me again, his bald head dripping with sweat. His jaw dropped when he saw my complete transformation.

  His screams filled the great hall.

  "Welcome, Father," I hissed over the ruckus he made, approaching him slowly, savoring every step, relieved to feel my natural form once more. "Welcome to MY church!"

  Monsignor Langford's screams suddenly ceased. I feasted hastily on his body, but dined leisurely on his soul.