... ..needle ....March 13, 2006   I have never sinned.  That's the reason I quit going to confession when I was twelve.  I ran out of phony transgressions to confess.  At first, making up sins was easy.  When I made my first confession in the second grade, I told my confessor I had stolen the sports page from my neighbor's newspaper.  Actually, I had only borrowed the sports section of the newspaper so I could check the box scores.  I was gambling heavily back then and I remember having a week's lunch money riding on the Cardinals when, for some reason, the paperboy skipped our house.  I later returned the sports page though, technically, it had become sports confetti after I read Ken Boyer had booted a routine grounder that allowed an unearned run and a Pittsburgh victory.  I fucking starved that week. Over the next few years, I conjured up a multitude of pretend offenses.  Bless me Father, for I have sinned.  It's been one week since my last confession.  On Monday, I anointed my wiener with holy water.  Tuesday, I told my friend, Tubby, I knew which eleven herbs and spices the Colonel used in his secret recipe.  Father, I don't really care what I was doing when President Kennedy got shot.  And Vatican II sucks ass.  I miss Latin.  And so forth.  I knew it was over, that I had hit rock bottom, when, in the eighth grade, I confessed my suspicion that the earth revolved around the sun, and not vice versa. So, when I ran out of lies to confess, I quit going to confession.  But still, I am without sin.  I've never even lost my moral compass although, I must confess, it wouldn't have mattered if I had.  I broke it open in kindergarten and removed the needle. previous..|..current..|..archives..|..1st quarter index..|..next

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