December 13: Praying or Something, Friday the 13th, Fairy Tale

Finally, though, I got undressed and got in bed.  I felt like praying or something, when I was in bed, but I couldn't do it.  I can't always pray when I feel like it...

I think Holden wants to believe in God, even though he claims to be an atheist.  He wants to pray and believe in Jesus (although the disciples kind of annoy Holden).  I think he's struggling with believing in anything since the death of his brother.  Holden's crisis, in some ways, is one of faith.

It's Friday the 13th.  I try not be be superstitious about things like the number 13 and Fridays.  But I will admit, when I woke up this morning and realized the day and the date, there was a little part of me that wanted to roll over and stay in bed.  Not take any chances.  I wanted to pray, like Holden.  I wanted to tell God, "Enough with the bad stuff.  I get the message.  I'm not in control."  But I couldn't do it.

It didn't feel right.  First, I'm giving into a completely irrational fear.  No psychopath in a hockey mask is going to jump out of the darkness and chop my head off with a machete.  Second, I feel like I'm whining a lot when I pray.  God must get pretty tired of complaints.  His complaint department must be the busiest place in heaven.

So I didn't pray.

And, about 10 a.m., the school nurse called to say that my son wasn't feeling well.  We picked him up, and, an hour later, he was throwing up in the toilet.  I guess I should have said a few words of prayer before I got out of bed.  It couldn't have hurt.

Which reminds me of a little tale about a superstitious guy named Rupert.

Once upon a time, in the land of Crystal Lake, there lived a cobbler named Rupert.  Rupert was the most superstitious man in the kingdom.  He never worked on the thirteenth of any month.  He avoided black cats.  He didn't even own an umbrella because he didn't want to take the chance that he would open it up indoors, and he allowed no mirrors to enter his house to avoid breaking them.  Rupert lived in constant fear.

One Friday the 13th, Rupert received a summons to come to the palace to repair the queen's favorite slippers.  Rupert told the messenger that he could not work on the shoes until Saturday.  The messenger told Rupert that the queen was hosting her book club and she wanted to wear her slippers.  Rupert refused to leave his house, and the royal messenger went away.

Rupert spent the rest of the Friday the 13th the way he spent all Friday the 13ths:  he hid under his bed with a knife, a book, and a bologna sandwich.

On Saturday the 14th, Rupert gathered his cobbler tools and started off for the palace.  As he was passing through the forest, he was struck in the head by a falling pine tree and killed instantly.  It seems the royal lumberjack, Jason the Jackass, forgot to yell "Timber!" as the pine started to come down.

Moral of the story:  When you find a good pair of slippers, always buy two pairs of them.

And Saint Marty lived happily ever after.

A Savage Chicken Friday the 13th