"A damn good one," I reply knocking in the 8 ball and winning the game.
"Where's your church?" Lindsay the bride asks when we meet for the first time to plan her and Frank's wedding.
Holding both arms in the air I answer, "The world is my church."
"If you're really a minister," Amanda messages me on Face Book, "how can you write things like 'JESUS: THE ROLLING STONE INTERVIEW'?"
"I thought it was funny," I write back, "and thought Jesus got a kick out of it too."
"Why don't you go to Church?" Tim emails. "Ministers are supposed to go to church."
"I prefer the grand Cathedral God built," I explain, "and not the church people have been trying improve on ever since with its stained glass windows, carpeted pews and really good sound systems."
"Do you ever go Church?" Diane asks in a text while asking if I'll be a job reference.
"Sometimes," I tell her. "I like Bar Church ... it's a church that meets in a Bar ... and when I miss the fancy stuff ... there's just nothing like a really good Catholic Mass."
"What exactly is your ministry," Neil asks sitting beside me at the counter of The Breakfast Club?
"Beats me," I laugh and then say, "I just try to be there when somebody needs me."
"You do know you're going to Hell," Beth posts on my page.
"I've already been a couple of times," I comment, "and it's not all that. I'd rather not go back but if I have to ... I'm a survivor and thinking about getting Tee-shirts saying as much."
"You are so damn frustrating!" Sandy tells me as I get the mail at the Post Office.
"About what?" I ask.
"Is your Guardian Angel real?" Dave the Bartender at Spankey's asks. "I could use a Guardian Angel."
"Everybody needs a Guardian Angel," I respond, "and I like mine a lot! I've put her through Hell but she's always there for me. You'll like yours too when take the time to meet her."
"Your blog drives me absolutely crazy!" Angela, a childhood chum, lets me know. "It's like a train wreck and I have to look. Why do you do it every day?"
"I think it beats listening to most sermons."
"Most sermons don't have Little Gay Dogs," she immediately retorts, "Angels that cuss and drink, cuss words at all or Bill Berry in them."
"You know he's not the ... never mind ... I don't give many sermons anymore so you really can't compare ... Sometimes Samuel Adams (who plays damn good live music on Tybee) loses his mind and asks me to preach but even then I try not to preach ... There's way too much preaching in the world already."
"Why did you write about me?" my Mother yells into the phone. "I've told you not to write about me!"
"You're my Mom," I say for the hundredth time. "Everybody loves you. You're right up there with my Guardian Angel and Winston, The Little Gay Dog."
After Mom hangs up me, Sarah does not ask what I'm working on so I ask her, "Want to know what I'm doing?"
"No," my wife replies.
That's pretty much sums up my ministry.
