That Pentacostal Girl (603 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 0.62 on 11 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by RkaDk2 (View user info) at 2004-08-04 07:03:17 EDT
It was the summer of '96, and I was a horny teenager. Through some combination of charm, good looks, or sheer dumb luck, I had managed to hook up with this girl named Sara.
Sara wasn't the most beautiful girl in the world. In fact, she was a butterface (she kind of looked like Butthead, of Beavis and Butthead fame). From the neck down, however she looked pretty good.
Sara had issues, one of which was that she was Pentacostal. I did't think much of it at first, even though she would remind me of this EVERY DAMN DAY. She kept asking me to come to this youth group thing that met on Thursdays, so I finally relented.
Thursday comes along, and she calls me up.
Sara: "Darren (the preacher dude's assistant)is gonna come get you at 5:00, so just wait outside".
Me: "Let me guess, he'll be driving some piece of shit, pastel blue, Chevy van."
Sara: "You've been there before?"
Me: "Nope, I was just guessing."
Sara: "Hee hee, I knew it, because the van's green." Sara wasn't too bright, either.
Five o'clock rolls around, and I'm waiting outside for this Darren fella. Ten minutes later, a piece of shit, pastel green, Ford van pulls up. Darren looks like one of those guys you should NEVER, under any circumstances, accept a ride from. Thirtyish, balding, with that general child-molester vibe emanating from his very being.
Darren: "You Rick?"
Me: "Yeah."
Inner voice: Remember all that shit older and wiser folks told you about rides and strangers; this is one of those situations.
Darren: "Hop in."
Me: "OK."
Inner Voice: Way to go, retard. If you die horribly, you deserve it.
After we make a few stops to pick up some other kids, we arrive at the chruch without incident.
I met the preacher dude, whose name escapes me, so I'll just call him Preacher Bob.
Preacher Bob: "Hello, Rick, I'm Preacher Bob. Nice to meet ya."
Inner Voice: Great, you're the only new person here. Just remember, you've been to chruch before, been saved a couple of times. Just run of autopilot, when in Rome and all that.
Me: "Likewise."
Preacher Bob has us all settle in and starts with the sermon, then we sing a couple of songs. We're standing in the next to last row, and I sing along because Sara is next to me, so I want to try to look like I'm fitting in. After this, we take a break for refreshments (punch and cookies, yum). It's after the second sermon that things get a little strange.
Preacher Bob: "Ok, we're gonna sing some more, and anybody who feels the holy spirit, just come to the front."
Inner Voice: Dude, let's sit this one out.
During the first song, some folks go stand up front and start swaying back and forth, like palm trees in a stiff breeze. During the second song, Sara walks up front and joins them. All of the sudden, Preacher Bob starts walking back and forth in front of the front rows and says:
"BLABALLYBLABERYABBADOOCOWABUNGARUBBADUBDUBAHUBBAHUBBBA!!" and a whole lot more.
Being the ignorant fool I was, I figured he was speaking Latin, really, really, fast.
Then this other kid falls over and starts to have what looks like an epileptic fit.
Inner voice: What the fuck?!?
After about two minutes, I move to the front row because Sara went from swaying to gyrating, and she was putting on one hell of a show (wiggle that ass). After about another minute, I walk up to epilptic boy and ask, "Hey, are you all right?"
He gives me the nastiest look and bellows:
"OOHYABBADEEYABBADIEBOSSANOVAHUMPTYDUMPTY!!!"
Inner voice: I repeat, what the fuck!?!
Once the singing stops, there's another sermon, and we wrap things up. Darren takes us all back home, and everybody's talking about what a great time they had. A half hour later Sara calls.
Sara: "So, what did you think?"
Me: "That was interesting, but I have a couple of questions."
Sara: "Like?"
Me: "Well, take Preacher Bob for instance. When he started pacing and talking really fast, was that Latin?"
Sara (in a faraway voice): "No, that was tongues, the language only god can understand."
Me: "Oh, really. I only speak in tongues when I stub my toe or hit myself with a hammer: RAZZAFRAGGAMUHFUGGINSUMBISH!! I hope god doesn't think I'm swearing at HIM."
Sara: "That's not funny."
Me: "Sorry. Ok, what about the dude on the floor who was spazzing out?"
Sara (in a matter of fact voice): "He was taken by the holy spirit."
Me: "Well, the holy spirit must have a pretty sour disposition."
Inner voice: You would too, if you had to spend your time possesing teenagers who have nothing better to do on a Thursday night.
Shortly after that we broke up. She met another guy, and he had something that I didn't at the time. A car.
User Reviews
Submitted by Draqus (user info) at 2005-05-28 06:07:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
You really have to wonder about these people.
It strikes me as downright bizarre.
Submitted by Twiddle (user info) at 2005-05-28 05:46:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I can totally identify been to a pentacostal church and said shit happens exactly as specified.
BLASDSERFTRYPOOPINYOUROATMEALANDVASELINEINYOUREARCANALSCOOBY-DOOISEEYOU
Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2004-08-04 11:16:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
I believe that Quakers do this too.
Submitted by digsy (user info) at 2004-08-04 11:03:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
"OOHYABBADEEYABBADIEBOSSANOVAHUMPTYDUMPTY!!!"
Submitted by Shay (user info) at 2004-08-04 08:53:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
Shitty ending.
Submitted by I_Have_a_Kristen_Fetish (user info) at 2004-08-04 07:54:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Kent_Weirdo (user info) at 2004-08-04 07:47:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by dategrape (user info) at 2004-08-04 07:29:12 (#)
Ranking: -2
GOT MY FIRST REAL SIX STRING
-------------------------------------
By the way, this was fucking hilarious!
Submitted by Kent_Weirdo (user info) at 2004-08-04 07:46:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
This story didn't have much of a point.
It started out KINDA (and I really stress KINDA, mind you) alright, but it just fizzled out in the end. Tell us the story of how you started workin' on your night moves, like Bob Seger did. That is, if you HAVE worked on your night moves.
Was a little too tall, could've used a few pounds,
Tight pants, points, hardly reknowned
She was a black-haired beauty with big dark eyes,
and points all her own, sittin' way up high
Way up firm and high
Out past the cornfields where the woods got heavy,
out in the backseat of my '60 Chevy,
workin' on mysteries without any clues...
Workin' on the Night Moves,
tryin' to make some, front-page drive-in news,
Workin' on the Night Moves
And it was summer time...
Sweeeet, summer time...
Submitted by Malificent (user info) at 2004-08-04 07:35:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Crazy bitch.
Submitted by Falco (user info) at 2004-08-04 07:32:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Twas the summer of 69
Submitted by dategrape (user info) at 2004-08-04 07:29:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
GOT MY FIRST REAL SIX STRING