=Mea Culpa=

(image: Moan Lisa/Meeah Williams)

I'm hit by lightning seventeen times before I say enough's enough. I've got to do something. I can't simply continue calling it a run of bad luck. I don't believe in God but maybe he's trying to tell me something all the same. I do what anyone would do. I avoid large expanses of water, shoes with metal cleats, fields where I'm the tallest thing standing for miles around. I join a secret order of monks, shave a bald spot on the back of my head, and take a vow of silence. I memorize a complicated language of holy hand signs, change my wardrobe. Soon, I'm unrecognizable even to myself. I'm a completely new person. I return to society and to my relief I'm no longer getting struck by lightning on a regular basis. Did I do what God wanted? Did my disguise fool Him? Or did He just lose interest in me altogether? That's the thing with God, you never know. Suddenly, out of a clear blue sky, the dark clouds will come roiling in. There's a rumble of thunder. I feel the old fear in the pit of my belly but I hold my ground. I don't go running off like all 3 Stooges for the nearest basement. Instead, I try not to flinch. I look up hopefully. The first of the rain begins to fall on my upturned face. I wave. 

"Hi God," I say hopefully. 

I hold my breath. My scalp begins to tingle. Everything turns blue. Here it comes. The first bolt falls somewhere miles away to the north. I exhale. I give thanks. So far so good.