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Show 43 without the religion." The basic idea seems to be having church on Saturday in regular clothes, and sometimes, instead of a sermon, taking hikes in nature. Don't you think that's a better way to celebrate Christ's message? he asks. Hell, no. True, my Christian celebration is tiresome and lacks zeal, but I haven't yet found a better option for being a Christian than doing what I've done all my life: put on a tie on Sunday, sit in church for three hours indoors and then enjoy the six days and twenty-one hours until I have to do it again. It doesn't make my body hum, but if there is an alternative, it has to be better than driving up to hippie church in Salt Lake. Jeff and I face off and start circling each other. He is in a comical Popeye stance and I know this won't take long. I punch him right, left, then right again, the last one harder than necessary since he was just playing around. He drops the gloves and says Settle down, killer. I say, Where's your Rock God now? He points out that his God is the same as mine but all I have to say is, I should just do my second fight right now. So up walks drank Travis. A bigger guy, he has a lot of force behind his punch, but it isn't likely to connect if you keep moving. I run a few circles around him and his fat, semi-drunk ass gets tired right away, and his punches are as easy to avoid as snowballs from a five year-old. He gets tired of that fast and I only get two punches in before he needs a breather and gives up too. I stop moving and notice that it's cold outside for spring. While others fight, I relax in the pavilion, thinking I'm done for the night. I feel bad about hitting Jeff and say sorry. He says, It's cool, man. I talk with the |
