MONKEYSAYS

DOWN THE SHORE (The Varieties of Religious Experience)

I was half asleep in my beach chair, when I was roused by a commotion a few feet away. It was Big Fat Obnoxious Guy, leading a troop of at least fifteen. There were umbrellas, a stroller, coolers, blankets and towels. He was strangely quiet as the setting up, unfurling, arranging and rearranging proceeded. Eventually the encampment took shape, acquiring an unworldy look of permanence in the mid-afternoon sun. Only then did BFOG address the multitude.

BFOG: "Well, I'm going in. Who else is going in? Who's ready? Who's going in with me?"

Nothing. Silence from the gathering.

BFOG: "Timmy, you coming in? Connor, coming in? Hey come on guys. Let's go in."

Still nothing.

BFOG: "Listen, you guys. Hey. I bust my ass all year to get us down here and no one's going in? Hey."

Nothing.

BFOG: "Well, I'm going in then."

And in he went.

I drifted off. I couldn't have slept for more than half an hour, but when I woke all was quiet. BFOG and his clan had vanished, leaving nothing behind, not even footprints in the sand. It was as if it had all been a dream.

Yet I believe. Even though no one else had seen or heard a thing. I believe BFOG visited me that day.