The Chapel In The School

It was 1989 in the school's Chapel. Let's call it St. Ambroise for the pointless sake of it. Back when chapel's in public institutions didn't cause a silly, freakish uproar among pseudo-rationalists, secularists or pain in the ass complaining atheist taking the state to court over trivial bull shit. You heard me. Fuck 'em.

Not that I'm religious. I just don't like people forcing their views on others is all.

Our insane - though it could never be proven on a piece of paper signed by those who know how to certify such things - Irish catholic priest was at his priceless, vulgar best.

His weekly diatribes were enough to rile a pack of psychotic boys (again, no proof) revving and itching to stir trouble. After swearing his way through a moral fable (I swear. I fucking swear Aesop wrote the Bible and no one is telling us the truth), he proceeded to go and sit in his quarters to listen to Confession.

Confession. As in, forgive me Father for I have sinned. Now, it's a tough subjective game this confessing sins thing. I once asked a religion teacher for a play book so I can keep tabs of what human transgressions Catholicism deemed sinful. Without it, I felt aimless. I mean, is manipulation of stocks or a girl you want to bang a sin per se?


I get easily confused and when I'm messed up internally, I ask empty questions.

No one went into the Chapel. It's 1989 again, remember? We all sat in silence refusing to go. Then, we had the idea, and don't ask why, of doing a human pyramid...in the Chapel.

It was quite a bizarre endeavor. It's not everyday you get a rough and tough kid like Tommy Ferino seizing the artistic reigns for the sake of making trouble. He carefully selected which of us would be placed on the pyramid. Ponzi would soon beckon him in the future.

Just as they were getting to the top, the Priest, probably wondering what was going on, came out. My bad. Sorry. The priest had a name. I forget to formally introduce people sometimes. His name was Father Cox. No joke. He never had a chance.

My friend once told me a story of the time he went into the secretary's office and someone was behind the copying machine fiddling around trying to fix it. As he spoke to the lady, the man blurted as he was getting up, "somebody has been fucking around with the fucking wires."

It was the good Father.

Another story. Actually told by my brother-in-law who graduated, say, 12 years before me. He too had Father Cox. One year he took his class on one of those spiritual getaways in the woods to "find oneself." I forget what you call them but I'm sure some marketing asshole has. I think those things are bull shit. Wood, grass, ponds, pond scum, and frogs have nothing to say to you. They have their own shit to take care of.

While the kids were starving in the cold outside, a couple of them went walking around to find the old man. Turns out Father Spirit Guide was sitting down in a cabin eating steak and eggs by a warm fire.

Do as I say...

The pyramid was not a sound structure. A look of brief disbelief suspended in thin air as we stared at Father Cox waiting to see what this nutcase was going to do. I wasn't in the pyramid but I still remember watching the standoff with delicious contentment. Suddenly, he said just as our morals teacher walked in, "get these assholes out of here" and down came the pyramid crumblin' and tumblin' to sacred ground.

Next thing we know, it was Delta Tau Chi redux. Guys were scattering for safety trying to elude the teacher. Why, I'm not sure. The rebellelion spilled over into the hallways and soon the Principal and other teachers were in the hunt searching us.

Shows you how stupid we were. Instead of just sitting down we decided to scatter like brainless monkeys.

I found myself running with Eric who was eating a bag of carrots and celery.

It was an especially tough spot for me as I was in enough trouble that week. I had been kicked out of a significant amount of classes and it had become apparent to the professionals shaping the country's future perhaps I wasn't going to be all that productive for society. I hate the word "society." It screams "follow this blue print" and therein laid my biggest problem: Conformity.

I feared it. Still do. It has made my life a living hell because the basic premise of our "social" and economic and all other bull shit associations like political parties, is conformity.

Part of conforming is accepting orders from dipshit morons who have no business giving orders in the first place. Not for me, man.

I was afraid of getting expelled. Weird. I knew I wasn't taking school seriously and that my behavior was far from impressive. I never told a teacher to fuck off though. I just didn't find that had any comical value. Plus it just wasn't cool. Maybe I was afraid of trying...and failing.

I told Eric I couldn't get caught. So we returned back to the Chapel by that time existing in peaceful spirituality. In other words, it was empty.

I rattled off a few nervous questions. "What do we do? Where do we hide? Why do we need to hide? How did it end up like this? Maybe I should just quietly go back to class? Why can't I just be a god damn good student? What if..." Eric was quietly and calmly eating listening to me while examining a door. He opened it and said, "how about in here?" "Father Cox's private bathroom?" I asked.

"It's the safest place. Principal Mariano will not look in here." Sounded logical to me.

In we went.

While absurdedly standing in a cold, tight bathroom, all I heard was Eric biting into his vegetables. "Want a carrot?" he asked in the dark. We didn't even bother to turn the light on. "Sure." There we stood eating carrots for a few seconds when our logical plan broke. The principal swung the door open. He saw two students eating carrots in the Priest's bathroom. He was stunned and asked, "Wh-what are you doing in there?"

Now that I think of it, I hope he didn't think...

"Nothing, sir." Eric said. "Get to class this second."

Off we went.

"Not you!" he said to me. No, you go to room 1B right now!"

I was given a severe warning. I think they saw no point in giving anything more. It's called cutting your losses.

As I left the office, I wouldn't have wanted it any other way.