Recently during a sermon, I was nursing a nice, hot cup of coffee as John was sharing the proper pronunciation of Isaiah, the Prophet. He said it was not pronounced "EYES-AAA-URRR," as some folks around here say it. Well, I hated to admit it but that was funny. I was chuckling under my breath so I wouldn't encourage him to reload, when I noticed my legs were burning. I know what you're thinking, but it wasn't brimstone; it was hot coffee I'd been sloshing all over myself with each chuckle. Normally, a beverage stain is a minor laundry issue, but I play guitar in our praise band and had to return to stage with coffee all over the front of my pants. I was able to position my guitar to cover the wet spot, but it was a close call.
When I cleaned up, I remembered that we Methodists are supposed to "forgive those who trespass against us." So, I've decided to forgive John for trespassing into my space with his occasional stabs at humor. I'm even going to help him get a few laughs by giving him some great jokes next Sunday, right before his sermon, as he's drinking his morning coffee. If I time the punch lines just right, maybe he'll laugh so hard he'll spill hot decaf all over the front of his pants. Since he won't have a low-slung electric guitar to hide behind like I did, those wet trousers should be a hoot. If he wants to be funny, I'm going to use my skills to help him make people laugh. No self-respecting humorist would do otherwise.
David McCoy is a notorious storyteller and a proud Yellow Jacket. He lives in Conyers and can be reached at email@example.com.