Something Light

Karen said, “Write something light.”

At a class reunion Pete Jones shared this.  I take minimal license in the retelling.

Harry was in hospital with a fractured skull.

Pal Ben came to visit.  “Hey buddy!  Cracked the ol’ bean?  What happened?”

“Well Benny,” the patient hesitated, “it’s kinda fuzzy.  I went to church like always.”

Ben nodded.

“The pews was all took up.  So Usher Jim told me go sit up front with Pastor Mike and Deacons,” Harry looked up, “Like when they ain’t enough seats?”

A second nod.

“I was right behind the pulpit,” his head shifted slowly side-to-side, “with that big Bible?”

“The big Bible!”

“After the prayer,” the patient hesitated, “Miss Philips stood up, right in front of me, to lead the hymn.”

Ben saluted, “Colonel Broad Bottom.”

Harry went on.  “She was .  .  .  a arms-length away.  And I seen where her skirt was, you know  .  .  .  tucked in?  She had this little wedgie.”

His friend’s expression shifted from amused to concerned. “Okay?”

The man in the bed looked up.  “Well  .  .  .  it looked .  .  .  you know, uncomfortable!  Pastor Mike and the Deacons seein’ it.  So I just,” his hand raised, “reached  .  .  .”

Ben’s gaze shot to the ceiling.  “No!”

“And pulled ‘er out.  Well Miss Philips looked around,” appearing astonished, “Benny, on the farm, three years in the Army, ain’t nobody ever look at me like that!”

Ben shook his head.

Harry continued.  “By the second verse a that hymn I got to thinkin’.  Maybe it’s supposed to be like that; maybe it’s the style,” his hand raised.

A more emphatic, “No!”

“So I just, you know, tucked ‘er back in?”  The patient looked up.  “Last I seen Benny, is that big ol’ Bible comin’ at my head.”