I knew that christianity wasn’t for me when I tried to steal some gum from the supermarket. I think I might have gotten away with it a time or two before, but this time I got caught red handed.
Naturally, my mom wanted to know why I did it. She let me have it in the car. Grasping for reasons other than “I wanted some gum, and I knew you’d never buy it for me because it’s sugary candy”, I said someone made me. Genius!
“Who?” she asked.
“Someone straight down.” I told her.
“The DEVIL?!” she asked, piloting her huge 70′s station wagon out onto the road. “That is such a load of bull” she told me. I got spanked for that one when I got home.
I mean, really. God is always there in full shining glory, as recognized chiefly by my grandmother and to a lesser extent my mom and dad, when something good happens, or it’s a lovely day, but I’m not allowed to point to the Devil as having made me steal some Bubbalicious? Where’s the balance in this God/Devil thing?
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Ha. Seriously.