by Horia Hulea
Chapter 7
"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."
"I know you did, son. We all do. Some more than the others. The important thing—"
"Yes, yes, Father, I know, I know, but this time I have seen the signs! The end is coming! We must repent, Father! You and Mom were dead right about that!"
The priest was starting to feel uncomfortable.
First, because Old Tom never put so much of a toe in this church (or any other church, for that matter). Actually, from the technical point of view, he may have been in this church when he was baptized as a baby. But could someone say for sure if he was even baptized?
And now here he is, all shaky and ready to repent!
Second, because Old Tom, the ultimate unbeliever … Old Tom, who would put to shame any devil with his idiotic rants … Old Tom, with his personal little swarm of flies buzzing around his garlic-smelling head and whose idea of taking a bath and washing his clothes was rolling drunk in the puddles during rain while singing … Old Tom, for whom a separate hell should be created since he would be such a bad influence on all the other sinners … Old Tom, who never read a book, holy or unholy, is here in person mumbling about signs and mystical prophecies. That, and also begging for a confession which Father Albert didn't look forward to hearing.
And third, there is no booze stink in his breath.
Which means Old Tom is in the soberest state that he has ever been in his life. Actually, from the technical point of view, the only time he should have been sober was as a baby. But could someone say for sure he wasn't suckling back then on a bottle of whisky?
However, we digress.
"Tell me what happened … son."
"Father! Father! You won't believe your very ears what I have seen! The Holy Spirit is not a dove, Father. The Holy Spirit is a cat!"
Old Tom stops, waiting for a reaction, but since there is none, he goes on. "I was minding my own business … doing honest and hard work, like the honest and hardworking Christian everyone knows I am … and I was taking back the chickens from old lady McKendrick, the chickens that she owed me—not stealing, taking back! People who say lies about me stealing chickens are liars! Especially when they are so stingy on buying those chickens. You tell to the whole village that I stole them just because you can't even pay a fair price for them? Would it hurt you to put in a bottle of whisky on top?"
"Old lady McKendrick? You stole chickens from old lady McKendrick? That poor soul that comes on every week at every sermon? But what did she do to you?"
"What did she do to meee?" Old Tom gasps for air and wipes his forehead with his sleeve as he goes through the recent memories.
"What she didn't do to me! She sure deserved it, that sneaky old fox. I told her that pleasuring an old widows is hard work, as it is. But, nooo, she wanted three times a week!"
"Old lady McKendrick?"
"And she works me like a slave, Father! She'll break the bed and keep on going! No wonder her husband died so early! And I'm not a young lad anymore!"
"Old lady McKendrick?"
"The one and only, Father! Folks think she a war widow. But she no war widow! She a lust widow! She will suck the life from you like sucking marrow from the bones! She will chase you up the attic and down in the cellar to finish all her dirty business!"
"Old lady McKendrick?"
"She works you day in and day out to the last drop and with nothing to eat in the whole kitchen! I had to fight them pigs for them cabbages in the garden! She didn't pay me my money for a whole four weeks! Four weeks! Three times a week! With no booze, no food, no nothing! That woman has no heart! No heart at all! I had to steal her chickens! The Lord knows justice is on my side!"
A moment of silence, as Father Albert still tries to make sense of the ramblings.
"Old … lady … McKendrick?"
"And while I was getting my fair share of birdies, the skies opened, Father! The very skies opened above me, and the clouds parted, and it was light all around as bright as day! And behold!"
The shout echoes so loud in the church that the priest bounces back.
"The Holy Spirit in the form of a cat descended from the heavens carrying the message of the times to come. The cat spoke as clear as you and me, Father, and its voice was the voice of angels, and my heart stood still in wonder! And the truth was clear as whisky as I was right there and then, and I knew that it was all true! All true! The end is upon us, Father! The Holy Cat has spoken! All the kingdoms and nations of people will perish, and all that will remain of us will be the tooth fillings!"
Father Albert was speechless.
He had known this moment would come sooner or later. He had known that, at some point in time, Old Tom, like any self-respecting alcoholic, would either hit his head in a ditch or fall off a roof, and then he would walk around talking to himself and seeing holy cats falling from the heavens.
Oh well, what can I do? Every village has to have an idiot in the end.
Now that honor would be bestowed on good Old Tom.
"One Our Father and three Hail Marys before you go to sleep," he instructs.
"Thank you, Father. Thank you, thank you! I will go and spread the word of the Holy Spirit cat for the ages to come."
The door opens, the door closes, and Old Tom steps triumphantly outside, feeling like a new man. After he recites those Hail Marys, all his years of drinking and cursing will be forgiven, and he will be reborn with a brave new life in front of him.
