Bats In the Belfry Eat Free

Last night was the big community Easter concert. It alternates from year to year between St. John the Baptist Catholic Church and St. John the Catholic Baptist Church, since they have the largest seating capacities. This year was the Catholics' turn.

All the ministers sat in the chancel, between the massed choirs and "Bobby Shafto and his Holy Week Combo." Pastor Patty is still worrked about her appearance, since someone sent her, anonymously, information about beautytipsforministers.com, so she made sure she was sitting between Leader Lola of The Three Round Church and Sister Shubert of The Church of the Enduring Supper, known locally as The Holy Rolls Church. One is especially comely and one is remarkably not so. Thus Pastor Patty figured nobody would even notice her.

Nobody noticed anybody else at all when, early in the service, they were singing "Come, sinners to the gospel feast, let every soul be Jesus' guest, ye need not one be left behind..." and leaving not one behind, the Somali palm insects attacked, apparently summoned by the piccolo in Bobby Shafto's combo, which sounded to them like The Whistler at The Methodist.

On Palm Sunday, the Somali insects had been slumbering in the cut-rate palms the children were waving at The Methodist until they heard The Whistler doing accompaniment for "Ode to Joy." When The Whistler changed his tune to "I'll fly away," they did so. They had only flown across town, however, and taken up residence in the walls of St. John the Baptist. Now they were really hungry, and "Come sinners, to the gospel feast" had an effect Charles Wesley had never intended.

There was screaming and whacking and even calls for God to damn the piratical Somali palm insects. But then, the sound of The Whistler was heard in the land. Still, no one knows the identity of The Whistler, but Detective Abel Cain said this morning that he had one clue: The Whistler is an Isaac Watts fan, for he began on "Come, Holy Spirit, heavenly dove, with all thy quickening powers..."

That was when the bats came out of the belfry.

The Catholics have pretended for so long that they don't have bats in their belfry that everyone had forgotten about them, creating an identity crisis for the bats themselves, who apparently thought they were holy doves, because they dove down into the sanctuary, with their quickening powers, and enjoyed a Holy Week feast like they'd never had before.

Today there is a new sign in front of The Whistle & Thistle: "Blue plate special, $7.95. Bats in the belfry eat free."