truth or dare

During a friendly game of Truth-or-Dare in Mexico --

uh-huh, I said Truth-or-Dare -- see why the young-uns luv me?

I picked truth. I picked truth, 'cause the dares (so far) had consisted of singing from the outhouse, using someone else's toothbrush, eating 16 marshmallows, and witnessing to strangers from other campsites....

Yeah, I picked truth (big deal. like you didn't already know I was a big woosie, eh?)

"Teacher Jayne -- tell us about your most un-Christian moment."

Well....it is a church group....and a youth group at that, so I tried to think of something "lessoney." You know -- something that taught by example. In light of that, I shared about moving out to California at nineteen, and alienating myself from my mom for a year.

"Geez, Teacher Jayne," lamented one of the other adults, "I was expecting something better from you...."

::Jayne wipes hands on concrete/dirt/mexico-stained jeans:: "Okay....okay -- here ya go:"

I remember seeing the ground rush towards me, and thinking, "Dang! This is gonna hurt like a fothermucker!" I tried to get my body straight -- straight as I could, and stiffened for the impact.

Witnesses say I bounced three times. I vividly remember the first hit, and maybe the second. But then I just remember sitting up, and pulling my parachute under my bum, so I wouldn't get dragged away.

Brain: move left arm
::left arm moves:
Brain: good! move right arm

::right arm moves::
Brain: great! move left leg

::left leg moves::

Brain: awesome! move right leg

::nada ::

Brain: aw, hell! Right leg! Move!
::nada::

Brain: Must be my knee..

About this time, I found myself surrounded by all my skydivin' buddies.

"APj!" inquired Andy (an EMT), "Are you okay? Where do you hurt?"

"Andy, I'm okay -- but I think I blew out my knee. I can't move my leg"

Andy picks up my right leg......

and that's when my femur hit the skin -- and I....I began speaking in tongues!

"Sonofafuckingtruckingdrivingbastardcheatingbitchlickingshiteatingmotherfucker!" I screamed. (Hey....my mother always said if you're gonna do it, at least make it effective....)

Andy carefully laid my leg down, and when to get supplies other than bandaids....

I, never being one to know when to stop, proceeded with my verbal diatribe, "AsswipingmotherbitchbastardsonofaDONUTFUCKERgawd--"

Somewhere in the middle of this verbal assault, the group that we shared the dropzone with came up to me. Uhhh... the Christian Skydiving Team.......who were already flinching at the hellaciousness spewing forth from my lips. (I'm sure I saw one visibly shaking, and another making the sign of the cross)

"Jayne.....Jayne.....we just want you to know.....that we're praying for you."

"Praying!?!?!?!?" I retorted, "PRAYING.....for ME!?!?!?!?!?"

::here it comes.....Teacher Jayne's most Un-Christian Moment......::

"DONTCHA THINK THE FUCKING TIME FOR FUCKING PRAYER WAS, LIKE FUCKING TEN FUCKING MINUTES AGO!?!?!?!? THANKS A-FUCKING LOT!!!!"

::hangs head in shame::

Amen