Clambering to my feet, I pulled a bloody sliver from my palm. It left a nasty-looking hole ripe for infection, so I crossed the few short steps to the sink to wash it out. The ubiquitous orange speckled shag rug did not extend into this area. Instead, the floor was covered in a linoleum of fake bricks, one of the few ‘improvements’ that actually pleased my eye. My gaze drifted to the frying pan still smoking on the stove, and I felt a flash of anger again. Margery could’ve burned the place down with her reckless behavior.
The A.A Meeting took place in the Church Notre Dame of Mt at Cedar Knolls. When the meeting started, I ask myself “where are the guys seeking for help”? When I realized that they all were seeking for help. They did not look like they need it help, they look like you and me. When the meeting started first they when in to “The twelve traditions” and then to the events that they have each week, at the first I could understand what was going on they were laughing one another. When an old man when to the front to introduced his self. At the end of his introduction he asks everyone (except us) to give money to him, because he has things to pay, when he pasted the pot all around the room, everyone started to give something. I thought it was a joke but
When we had first arrived at the church, I found it was in an odd location. The building connects with a Crossfit gym, that is between two other buildings. As we entered an old man held the door for the three of us and welcomed us. We walked in, having two other gentlemen welcoming us and referring to us as ladies. The room was a lot smaller than I had expected. There was around twenty people at the meeting. We sat in the fifth or sixth row. The front of the room is where the pulpit stood, which is where the pastor taught. There was also a table with the word “Remember” engraved in it. On the table sat two plates for money donations. I looked around the room and noticed all the posters on the walls. Many of them reference the crucifixion of Christ, with a scripture on it. The room had fake plants everywhere! They were on the ground, hanging on the walls, etc. It was to invite spring into the
"I hope you don't think," He said in aloft indignant tone, "That I believe in that crap! I may sell bibles, but I know which end is up and I wasn't born yesterday and I know where I'm going!" (816). Manley claims that he does not believe in the christian service even though he himself sells bibles. Every time he promotes his sales he is lying while at the same time claiming to be a good Christian. Under normal circumstances, religious bible salesmen do not turn out to be thieves with an odd fetish. As a result the reader will become perplexed by, or begin to question, the idea that Manley Pointer has not been honest until now, when he admits to Joy-Hulga his non-existent
The trip to the church that was in the middle of nowhere was a 20-minute drive from the city of Asheboro and the roads were seemingly nonexistent. Fortunately, there were signs posted along the country dirt roads to guide the drivers towards the parking lot. The first thing that can be seen after getting out of the car was a small
On a particular Sunday, several months ago, I was making my anxious rounds through the sanctuary, checking on the two thousand minuet details that go unnoticed by everyone but the Pastor and a few influential widows. There I introduced myself to an obvious visitor, a professional looking women in her mid 50’s. I asked if she was visiting, knowing the answer, and was pleasantly surprised to learn she was a Truett Professor doing what she described as a field trip, observing churches her students attend. As I walked her to a seat that hadn’t belonged to an elderly member for five decades, I went back to my duty, working the room and politicking the old crowd.
Despite the Supreme Court’s memo reminding everyone that the United States Government continues to operate under a separation of power, only 22 years passed before another President was brought before the Court due to overextending his presidential authority: Tricky Dicky. At the center of United States v. Nixon (926-937) was the now-infamous Watergate scandal. Leon Jaworski, the special prosecutor in charge of investigating a prior break-in at Democratic headquarters, obtained a subpoena ordering former President Richard Nixon to release audio tape recordings and documents believed to contain evidence connecting several of Nixon’s closest aids – and possibly Nixon himself – to the break-in. Nixon’s attorney argued that the situation should
Walter had been sitting in back left corner of the Sun City Catholic Church for what felt like far too long. It was a glorious spring day outside, with temperatures peaking a comfortable twenty-two degrees celsius. Meanwhile, as Walter attempted to unstick his dress shirt from his perspiring back, he was convinced that the temperature inside the church was upwards of thirty degrees. Just as Walter was wondering whether he could get sunburnt from the light pouring in from the church's high, arched windows, the organ player began to play. There was a great chorus of rustling and sighs of relief as the entire church stood up and swiveled towards the door. After a moment, the door opened with a creak and a older man escorting a white circus tent
Pastor Dave relied a story Medalion's bus driver shared about grandma shoplifting at Walmart. She was so focused on the hour allotted for the shopping trip that she walked out of Walmart without realizing she had not paid. It wasn't that her mind was slipping and she forgot, it was the panic that she would miss the bus! The bus driver saw Margie's shocked face and saw her run back into Walmart. He waited for her and all was well. Could you have imagined those headlines? Funniest part is that as much as we talked to Margie, we never heard this story!
Flannery O’Connor’s view to the character rewards her view to human as a fallen creature. This is denoted by the fact that the story depicts a destruction of a normal family by three escaped killers all at once.
The accumulation of our hostility eventually came to fruition as we debated how we would be able to make it to a lesson with an investigator later in the week, seeing as we were very short on miles left that we could drive our car. Irritation started to creep into my mind as our conversation steered more towards the conclusion of us having to just walk to four miles to our appointment. I was agitated by this not because I felt that the distance was too far, or too difficult. But because I felt that it could have been mitigated if we hadn’t wasted all of our miles on driving out to the edges of our area to knock doors. Leaving us with not enough miles to go to our appointments. After a brief silence in our conversation I made a comment about how we wouldn’t be in this situation if we didn’t already waste all of our miles. The tires squeal, we slide into a gravel lot outside a trailer park. Elder Shouse gets out of the car and starts yelling as he walks away. The passenger door swings open and Elder Shouse looms over me. His face was red and the vein on his forehead was bulging, as it usually did when Elder Shouse was extremely angry. Through gritted teeth, he hissed, ““We’re going back to the apartment and you’re going to call president Christiansen and tell him you’re going home, or I will. I am done with being your
The tires squeal as Elder Shouse slams on the brakes and jerks the car into a gravel lot just outside one of the local Aberdeen trailer parks. He gets out of the car and walks far enough away that I can’t make out what he is yelling from where I am sitting inside the car. I uncomfortably sit in the car, not knowing what else to do. After a few minutes he stomps back to the car, opens my door and says, “We’re going back to the apartment and you’re going to call president Christiansen and tell him you’re going home, or I will.” Tension had been building between Elder Shouse and me for a while now so I wasn’t unfamiliar with confrontations between us, but this ultimatum was something entirely different.
At this point in my life, I had become an altar server. The presiding pastor of my church was an old Brooklynite named Msgr. Dominick. In retrospect, if there was ever a pastor who had tragically lost his faith, it was surely Father Dom. Father Dom was the kind of man you picture with a scratchy voice and a pipe in his glove compartment. He was a sarcastic and cynical man, who would do everything in his power to mess with the congregation. When the choir would go on strike, he would use a tiny thrift shop speaker to play children 's choir music in spite of them. On occasion, Father Dom would pretend the altar servers were deaf to confuse the lectors. Every Sunday morning, he would tell me it was time to “wake up the Jews”, and would play the church bells as loud as he could.
Officer Hoy has three notes attached to this category. All three comments are for compliments and professionalism attributed by Officer Hoy on traffic stops. Officer Hoy is well liked within the department, as he is an easy going and approachable person. This characteristic of Officer Hoy is passed onto the street with people and suspects he comes in contact with. This trait in turn leaves customers satisfied with his decisions made during his
I entered into the worship service, unaware of what to expect. I was not familiar with this church, it was a non-denominational church, but the pastor had his roots in the A.M.E. Zion Church and branched out to establish his own church. I walked into the sanctuary prepared to participate in the Sunday School. I found a seat and readied myself to engage in some meaningful discussion. After sitting for several minutes, I asked one of the gentlemen who was standing at the front of the church if they had already started and where was the lesson coming from. He looked at his watch and indicated that he didn’t know if we had time for Sunday School. A puzzled look came over my face and I couldn’t help but express my confusion as I looked at