Fresh Egg
Humor Column

The Church Bar

It was a quiet day at the City licensing bureau and Connie was catching up on her Spider Solitaire when a slight man with graying hair, a beatific smile, and a priest's collar framing his kindly face walked into the office.

"Hello, how are you?" his voice and manner were like the warm sun and Connie beamed back at him while her other hand surreptitiously minimized the solitaire game on her computer.

"Just fine father, what can we do for you today," she said.

"I'm Father Phillip from the Church of the Sacred Heart just down the street. We've opened up a little snack bar in the church and I want to look into what it would take to get a beer and wine license."

Connie just stared. Was this an imposter? An alien? He was certainly a Yankee. She fought to keep her professional manner like Miss Julius said to do in the customer service class.

"We don't get a lot of requests for Beer and Wine licenses from a church Father Phillip. In fact, we never have had a church ask for one and, but, ah, I am sure that you cannot have a license."

Father Phillip was unfazed, "We are a corporation and churches can operate any business they want, even a bar."

"I apologize for the inconvenience," said Connie. Miss Julius always stress to never say "I'm sorry" because some customer might say "yes, you are" even nice pastors with warm smiles. "but it is against the law to open a bar within five hundred feet of the doors of a church."

"But our snack bar is inside the church. The law says you can't put a bar outside the church but it says nothing about inside," explained Father Phillip.

"Inside! Inside?!?" Connie quickly dumped Miss Julius. Customer care could not stand by and countenance this Blasphemy to her Baptist soul.

"What kind of church are you running here Reverend!" she demanded.

"Oh my, I did not mean to upset you," said Father Phillip, but she could see he was amused. "we just want a little beer and wine not any hard spirits. The Lord himself made water into wine."

"It wasn't alcoholic," Connie retorted.

"Then why would the guests think it was the best wine?" laughed the good father. "my dear woman most of my parishioners go home on Sunday to a good meal with wine on the table. I know because they invite my wife and I. We just want to be able to serve a good meal after church."

"I didn't think your kind could marry," puzzled Connie.

"We're Episcopalians, not Romans," corrected the Father. "we could just serve it for a love offering, but the thought was to raise money for the young people."

Connie's head was now spinning. Whatever an Episcopalian was they certainly weren't Christian as she knew them. She looked out the door hoping someone else would come in because she suddenly did not feel safe in her own office with this crazy man.

"The law says you can't have a bar within five hundred feet of the church door and unless you have a five hundred foot church, you can't put a bar inside and you can't serve alcohol on Sunday," Connie said firmly and with a finality that she hoped would put an end to it all.

"We serve alcohol every Sunday, already," replied the priest. "It's called communion."  Then he brightened and leaned over the counter, " But, you've given me an idea. We could put the bar up on the fifth floor."

Connie grabbed for her phone and shook the receiver in his face. "Look you, if you don't clear out of here right now, I'm calling the Sheriff. I don't think you are a preacher and I know that you are crazy stupid."

Father Phillip was taken aback and raised up his palm, " I'm sorry, I'll leave. I guess we'll have to go back to the love offering idea."

"You better bet you are sorry.  You are sorry as can be! You give alcohol to anyone and take money for it and I'll have the entire lot of you put in jail," she shouted. "Better yet, I'll come down there with a bull whip myself and clear you out like the good Lord did to those heathen Pharisees!"

With that Father Phillip turned white, turned on his heel, and fled from the office. For the life of him, he would never be able to understand these Southerners.

Connie sat at her desk panting with her hands shaking from adrenaline. Damn, what she wouldn't give right now for a drink.