St Muckymuck Episode 5 - You've got mail

WHAT YOU ARE ABOUT TO READ IS:

IRRELIGIOUS, IRREVERENT, AND IRRELEVANT.

THE PEOPLE, PLACES, AND EVENTS CONTAINED IN ST MUCKYMUCK ARE COMPLETELY FICTIONAL.  ANY AND ALL RESEMBLANCES TO REAL PEOPLE, REAL PLACES, AND/OR REAL EVENTS PAST, PRESENT, OR FUTURE IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.  

IN FACT, ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ANYTHING AT ALL WILL BE REMARKABLY COINCIDENTAL.

Sunday 12 noon mass

It was 11.48am on a wet Sunday morning in November.  The choir were gathering in the Cathedral for the noon mass, snuffling, shuffling and slipping into their seats in the choir stalls, directed obsessively by Sister Gertie.

Shug wandered into the church looking pensive.

Grace tottered towards him. “Hello handsome” she purred, placing her left hand on his right buttock.  Shug smiled wanely.

“You look a wee bit wabbit” she remarked, noticing his hangdog expression.

Shug looked at her, frowning. “Jeez, it’s like a goddamn foreign language....” he thought, shaking his head.

“Excuse me?” he said.

“I said, what’s wrong?” persisted Grace “You’ve got a coupon like a well-skelped arse!”.

“What.....?” Shug shrugged impatiently and wandered away absent-mindedly, unable to shift this persistent shadow of anxiety hanging over him.

Chris led the choir through one of the morning's many vocal warm-ups as the church filled with worshippers.

“She offered him honour

He honoured her offer

Then the whole night

He was on her and off her”

Father Eric was preparing the altar for mass, tapping his foot and bobbing his head in time to the arpeggios.

“Where’s Holly?” enquired Felicity innocently, when the warm up was over. All eyes turned and fixed on Bob, who was practising his psalm. He shrugged his shoulders, unconcerned.

“Dunno” he said, bemused “she went to make a cuppa last night and I haven’t seen her since....”

“ohhhhh.......” chorused the choir, clearly concerned.

“Hey, did anyone see the lottery draw last night?” said Kathleen O’Dowd excitedly. Kathleen was the choir’s best bongo player.

“I prayed to the patron saint of competitions, St Chancey and guess what? I won a tenner.  So, keep praying and maybe we’ll win the big one soon.”

“Yesssss!” said the choir, nodding approvingly.

******************

Shug settled into the seat allocated to him by Sister Gertie.  He looked around the Cathedral nervously. The spectre of Myra Dick was never far away from his thoughts these days. And that Violet Busby made him feel uneasy – the way her cold grey eyes bore into his. It was scary.

Violet had been the choir director at St Muckymuck’s for 31 years until she was sacked for her persistent, excessive and noisy flatulence which some worshippers found offensive.

After she left, she went to St Ode’s church in East Overdale, on the south side of the river Cathclyde, where she set up an alternative choir. Several of her closest cohorts from St Muckymuck’s had gone with her including Myra Dick, Senga McCulloch and Brenda Peuk.  All had taken a vow of revenge on St Muckymuck and Shug Grant in particular.

Shug was roused from his reverie by Ina’s piercing voice. “Our entrance hymn is No. 4228, This Is My Toddy, Poured Out For You”.

He opened his hymn book and gasped audibly, his eyes wide.

Written in angry red lettering on the page was S H U G S K U M.

Without lifting his head, Shug scanned the pews of the church, his eyes rotating 360º in his head. No, everything seemed normal.

His mobile phoned blinked. Surprised, he opened the message envelope.

“Daddy. Help. It hurts. Miaow.” it read.

“NO!” Shug cried, jumping to his feet. There was a stunned silence in the church as everyone stared at him. Bob stopped mid-psalm, mouth gaping. Father Eric paled and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Suddenly Shug’s phone vibrated and blinked again.

“Gotcha BumBoy! Haahaaaaa!” the message read this time.

Shug sank down in his seat, his heart thumping.  He could hear scuffling and sniggering coming from the pews at the back of the church, but he didn't dare look up.

The congregation jumped as the doors of the Cathedral slammed with a deafening bang, and as the choir stood to sing the offertory hymn, “Take It And Beat It”, the screeching of tyres could be heard echoing throughout the church.

©2010 Steven Gorman.  All rights reserved.