Sam I Am

My thoughts are on Molly's plump ass, how I'd like to spank it, bite it, kiss it, mold myself around it. That's when Sam comes around the corner and stands smiling, and I smile back. You know, one of those dumbass grins that say, "O shit! You caught me." Only, Sam can't read my thoughts -- except he's a Christian, and for a second, I think he might start prophesying, "God told me you're having impure nasty, nasty thoughts about Molly's perfectly round bottom, and he wants you to know before the rooster crows three times your penis is gonna shrivel and fall." Or something to that effect. Anyway, he stands there with an angelic smile, and I say, "How's it going, Sam-I-Am?"

"Oh fine," he says, "much better since I had the growth on my tongue removed. Small, really, but it was painful and bothersome."

Then I remember Debbie mentioning Sam battling cancer a few years back. "Oh yeah, didn't you have cancer a while back," I mumble and think, I'm fucking smooth, a master conversationalist.

"I'm terminal. The doctor gives me five years. If I'm lucky." Well, shit, how do you respond to that? "I'm, uh ... wow." I sputter, but I guess it's better than, "I hope you make it to five."

"No, it's fine. It's a blessing. God has given me so many opportunities to witness. Before, I couldn't see beyond my nose, but now I see the lilies in the field, the sparrows in the trees. Before, I was a miserable human being; now I see His glory all around me."

"Well, God bless you, brother. You know, my old man was a Baptist minister, and I've been reevaluating my life—the spiritual. I mean, at one time, I was really involved in my old man's church and thought about attending seminary after graduating from college. I monitored a Hebrew and Old Testament class at Northern Baptist Seminary, but it wasn't for me then. You know, where I was at and shi--tuff. Not a good place. I guess a lot of meaning for my life must be rooted  with the cross at Golgotha." He wells up, and I stiffen and look away.

"I prayed to God today," begins Sam, "that He gives me two people so that I may witness to them. He gave me a brother from my church, and He gave me you." He pauses, then says, "During lunch, may I pray for you?"

"Sure," I divert my gaze, and a ray of light reflects off my sunglasses and bursts at the tip of my nose. The Star of David, I think, as I walk away. "See you at lunch, Sam-I-Am.”

Who doesn't need a little prayer once in a while? Who doesn't need positive thoughts now and again? Who doesn't need someone caring for them from time to time? Who in the hell doesn't need a little mothering now and then?

In the distance, I see Molly, and she waves. I watch her strut towards her car. "O, Lord!" I say a quick prayer for myself, then one for Sam. Justification. Sanctification. By grace. Yeah, that's what it is, I think, and I head for the men's room to wash my dirty hands.