"I see," he smirks. "I'll be there."
It gives me pause.
He hates us and doesn't mind saying so.
"Your music sucks," he snarls from his Wheelchair. "Do you know any Def Leppard?"
Representing Bar Church we mostly do Hymns, Rock with Religion and occasionally things like "Dead Skunk In The Middle of the Road" which the inmates love.
If you don't believe residents of Nursing Homes consider themselves "Inmates" ... just ask them.
It's a crazy show because the Nurses who believe they can sing ... which they can't ... take over the microphones to screech in the name of Jesus ... beat the Hell out of the Tambourines we brought ...and further torture the Inmates.
Lona and I sit back holding our guitar, wishing we could sing instead of the uniformed guards performing for Jesus when we watch him wheel back in to hand me an envelope.
"You suck," he says to the singing Nurses.
Opening the envelop, it's a Polaroid of "Woodstock".
Kneeling down during the screeching for Jesus, I ask, "You were there?"
"I took the picture," he replies, "that's why I'm not in it."
"That sucks," I say in marvel.
"You damn right it does" he snaps.
"What was your favorite part," I ask.
"Getting on the stage," he smiles.
"NO WAY," I challenge in disbelief.
"I could have stolen a lot of stuff," he wistfully says.
"Can I take a picture of your picture?" I ask.
"Yeah," he says proudly.
"Can I post it on the Internet?"
"Hell yeah," he says.
I take a picture of his picture.
"I gotta go," he says turning his Wheelchair and grabbing the envelope. "They suck."
"They do," I agree.
He winks and says, "See you next week."
And that's an example of the ministry of Bar Church.
AAARRRGGG-MEN!
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