A funny thing happened on the way to giving blood. The sponsor church had a sign out welcoming anyone to attend high mass. What the hell? I have rules for what I will and will not do. Try has I may, there was nothing preventing me from attending. And the pretty lady who greeted me at the heavenly gates of the vast building was so nice. As I searched my mind for an excuse, I mumbled something about my exclusions. She took a genuine interest and asked what were my rules for life. I will do 1/ Nothing that involves high heights or depth, widths don't bother me 2/ nothing that will put my picture in the newspaper or post office 3/ nothing that is medically unproven 4/ nothing that violates my ever changing code of ethics 5/ nothing that doesn't involve alcohol. I was assured that wine would be involved, so I nodded my agreement. She appeared to take a deeper interest, what was my current code? I told her that most of my code was laid down in the sixties, and lately my brain hasn't been able to manage a quorum of cells, and it was too late to make an amendment to cover the service. Plus, I said, just to sound open and cool, in my travels I have never regretted a spur-of-the moment opportunity to enlighten myself. She seemed shocked, and as her look registered with my hungover brain, an instant replay of my last utterance showed that I had said sperm not spur. I took a pew and she hustled off, perhaps to summon a uniform. I don't know what she said to the arriving devotees, but I was in the scope of a lot of snipers thereafter. A plan had been laid and I was the target. On the surface it seemed like a normal service, at least normal for a church virgin. Since the actual words spoken were as clear as a message from Charlie Brown's parents, I found myself watching the flock and not the shepherd. Something was off, and it took me a while to catch on. A mink stool in front of me was turning her hymn pages at a different time than the toupee to my right. The transvestite two rows up was on a totally different section of his book than mink and toupee. While two blue hairs in the front pew keep checking their watches. Nobody over 60 checks their watch during church. It was time to make my move. 

I stood and walked to the aisle, knowing that nobody would lay a mitt on me inside the sacred store. Retracing my steps I returned to the blood drive, there was a different intake person at the fore, but my red bandage, snaked around my left arm revealed me as a previous donor. "I don't feel well, I think I'm going to.." and I tumbled neatly into gurney that was they kept for just such purpose. Six volunteers lunged at me, anxious to try out their skills. "Don't touch him" said the girl from the heavenly gates. "He is my uncle and is subject to such spells". She wound a blanket around me and wheeled me to the elevator and we proceeded to the ground floor. On the way down, she whipped the blanket down and stared into my eyes. "Sperm of the moment, indeed" she said, but with amusement in her eyes. "What did you tell those folks?" I asked. "Only that you were an auditor from the Vatican, scared the holy shit out of them." "An auditor? Do they do such things?" "Beats me" she said "They believe anything we say". "But, to what end?" I asked "Why would you do such a thing to these people". She didn't answered just wheeled me out to a waiting ambulance. It was driven by the transvestite - he turned around and gave me an expectant smile. "I like the red hoodie" he said. Then he turned on the siren and we sped toward I-40. I realized that the heavenly girl was at my side, "My name is Angelia" she said "I think your rules are about to be violated, but your propensity for adventure will be deeply satisfied". "Will there be alcohol?" I asked. She pulled out a faux medical bag and produced a sealed bottle of Maker's Mark.