Black Market Baptism.
I spoke with my sister tonight. My niece is 2 and my nephew is 4 1/2 months old. She said, “I’m going to get the kids baptized.”
I said, “Oh, yeah? What prompted that?”
(Just for the record, I realize the correct answer is “Jesus” but I asked, nonetheless.)
My sister said, “Well, you know I’m not all Catholic but it’s easier to do this when they are young. Otherwise, it’s a pain in the ass if they decide to get baptized later.”
Did I mention that my sister and I both went to Notre Dame? That might have backfired. We’re not all Catholic. We’re Cafeteria Catholics. (I’ll take some of that…a little of that…none of that please…)
She continued, “But if I do it here in town, I have to join the church and all that. So instead, I have this friend…and she knows a priest.” She might have whispered that last part. I can’t remember because I was already laughing.
She said, “Yeah, I just have to make a donation. To his mission. In Sri Lanka.”
So I’m going to go visit and sign the paperwork to be a godparent. And then, when the kids get older, I can tell them all about how their mother acquired a black market baptism for them from some beatnik poet dressed in black making money on the side by painting white-out on his collar and blessing the children with Pellegrino.
You know, since he’s for hire, maybe I’ll get Little Filthy baptized. Anyone want to make sure my dog grows up properly? He’s going to need some godparents.


Stumble it!
Just a random attorney writing about daily life with Little Filthy, my rotten dog.