Report from the RView (Got Religion?)

[Baitfinger]

As Posted 5.15.07:

It was bound to happen sooner or later—Captain Baitfinger is back at the RV park.

A weekend or two ago, he was hitchhiking down I-10 around Sealy, with a fishing pole on his shoulder and a Bible under his arm. As luck would have it, Miss Edna—who never passes up the chance to nab herself a “conversatin’ buddy”—just happened to be on her way home after two straight months on the road, and picked him up. Neither one of them recognized each other, so Miss Edna asked the Captain what direction he was headed. Apparently, the Captain had “got religion,” and after telling Miss Edna he was headed “t’wards Galveston” and grunting “Jesus bless ya’” as he hoisted himself into the cab, he kicked off the conversation by asking about her personal relationship with the Lord Jesus Christ. As she put the rig in gear, Edna gave the Captain a serious look and, with a cigarette dangling out of the side of her mouth, said, “Mister, me and Jesus got us a DAMN good relationship.” Then she went into her story about the time her rig jackknifed and how she “seen the Good Lord in a vision.” She talked about how she was in the hospital for months, but that her faith kept her strong through the hard times, and she described in vivid detail all of the ailments and procedures she endured. After an hour or so in the cab, which included an episode of vomiting out the window after a particularly graphic example, the Captain was convinced of Miss Edna’s walk with the Lord, and was itching to get the hell out of the truck any way he could. Fortunately, a few miles north of Galveston, just before the Captain got desperate enough to jump, Edna put her testimony on hold long enough to say, “My exit’s comin’ up friend—where ya want me to drop ya?” Finally he was able to get in a few words and explain that he was returning to an RV park that was also off the next exit. As he described where he was going, Miss Edna got that serious look on her face again and said, “I knowed you looked familiar. You and me’s headed to the same damn place.” The Captain studied Miss Edna’s face for a minute, then he snapped his fingers and said, “Oh, NOW I remember ya,” even though he had no idea who the hell she was.

Either way, they both knew the Lord had worked a miracle. The Captain kissed his Bible, lifted it up in the air and hollered, “That wheel in the sky keeps ON turnin’!” Miss Edna shouted “AMEN” and honked her horn a few times for Jesus. Then the talk for the rest of the ride was mostly about how the Lord works in “mysterical ways,” and included some Bible quotes from Miss Edna—in her own words—and quite a few shouts of “PRAISE Jesus” from the Captain.

As Edna rolled to a stop in front of her RV, Momma and T. Roy were coming out of Momma’s place after their “lunch break,” and made their way over to say hi. Before T. Roy could get his shirt back on, though, he saw the Captain plop out of the passenger’s seat and hollered, “Yer ass is mine boy,” then made a b-line for him.

The Captain took the Christian approach, backing away with his hand out, and telling T. Roy, “I’ve forgave ya for everthang you done. Jesus bless ya.” The Captain’s forgiving tone just pissed off T. Roy even more. He smashed the bottom of his beer bottle and yelled, “You best git the HELL outta my RV park, or ain’t Jesus or nobody gonna save yer ass when I git a holt of ya!”

T. Roy was wrong about that. Before he could take his first swing, Miss Edna jumped in his face and went off about his un-Christian behavior, and how he ought to be “asham’t” of himself. At first, he tried to stammer out a protest, but he shut up fast when Momma tagged in—on Jesus’ team—talking about how the Lord had obviously “brang the prodigal sheep on home.”

Long story short, Miss Edna put the Captain up in her RV until he gets on his own two feet, and of course, T. Roy knew better than to say anything about it.