Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ The Traveling Confessional ❯ A Bar Story ( Chapter 1 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
The Traveling Confessional
A Bar Story
SLAM! "Pour another!"
Wolfwood leaned back in his chair. The bar around him was full and a waitress hurried over to refill his drink. It was a clear night; the stars where out, the five moons were clearly visible and every bar-hopper in town was out, ready to party all night long.
"Aw, hell," the priest laughed, lighting up a cigarette, "just leave the bottle here!"
The woman rolled her eyes and set the bottle on Jack on the table. He immediately grabbed it and took a gulp, ignoring the fact that his glass was full.
"Wanna' share a little there, buddy?" came the whiney voice of Vash. Wolfwood looked over the bottle to see his friend wrapping a red and green-stripped tie around his head. This was a good sign. It meant that he wanted to get drunk.
"Of course!" he laughed again as he poured his friend a glass. "Where are the insurance girls? Wouldn't they like a shot?"
"I doubt it," said Vash. "Meryl was about ready to kill me last time I got drunk. If we dragged her or Millie into the bottle, I'd never hear the end of it!"
They laughed and drunk some more. It wasn't until around midnight that the crowed thinned, their voices thickened and the conversation got a little more interesting...
* * *
"You know," Wolfwood said, pointing at Vash and leaning into the table, "it isn't easy being a traveling priest."
"Really?" replied Vash, whose gaze was following a lazy fly.
"Oh no, it can get complicated." Wolfwood slammed his hand down on the table. "More beer!"
"Haven't you two had enough?" scolded the barmaid.
"How many have we had?" Vash asked.
"Twelve, sir."
"Well," said Wolfwood, thoughtfully, "we said we'd drink twenty, right? How many more does that leave us?"
Vash held up nine fingers. "This many!"
The waitress rolled her eyes once more and set down another two bottles. "I think you two need to go back to grammar school."
Wolfwood looked confused. "Why would we need to go to grammar school, if you want us to learn how to count?"
Both men started laughing as the woman walked away, shaking her head. They each poured a glass (magically not spilling a drop) and toasted each other.
Wolfwood smacked his lips together and scratched his head. "What was I talking about?"
Vash thought for a moment, and then guessed, "Converting to Buddhism?'
"Oh, right! Traveling priesthood...nope, it ain't easy, no sir. You gotta' carry all your own stuff in your own little bad. And, you gotta' come up with your own ideas to figure out how people will want to talk to you about their private lives outside the church. Nope, not many people want to do that to a stranger."
Vash tightened his make-shift headband and asked, "Is that what your mini confessional is for?"
Wolfwood opened the bad that was sitting on the floor and took out what appeared to be a miniature church with a big hold in the bottom. He placed it on the table and lit up another fag.
"You know, that's a good example. People don't want to pretend that they're in a church, so I guess you gotta' bring it to them."
Wile sipping at his drink, Vash poked at the cross atop the mini church and observed it. "How did you come up with this thing, anyway?"
"Funny you should ask, I was just thinking about that." The priest blew a puff of smoke and sighed. "It's all because of a kid named Mel."
"Mel? Isn't that a girl's name?"
Wolfwood shrugged. "That's just what I called him. His real name was..."
"Melvin?" Vash guessed.
"No, no, it was Brian." Vash got a really confused look on his face and watched his friend drink. Wolfwood continued, "But, seriously, this kid was something kinda' special. He was an orphan who wandered into our church some time ago. When his birthday rolled around, he said the only thing he ever wanted to do was to become an altar boy at the church. Let me tell you all about it..."
A Bar Story
SLAM! "Pour another!"
Wolfwood leaned back in his chair. The bar around him was full and a waitress hurried over to refill his drink. It was a clear night; the stars where out, the five moons were clearly visible and every bar-hopper in town was out, ready to party all night long.
"Aw, hell," the priest laughed, lighting up a cigarette, "just leave the bottle here!"
The woman rolled her eyes and set the bottle on Jack on the table. He immediately grabbed it and took a gulp, ignoring the fact that his glass was full.
"Wanna' share a little there, buddy?" came the whiney voice of Vash. Wolfwood looked over the bottle to see his friend wrapping a red and green-stripped tie around his head. This was a good sign. It meant that he wanted to get drunk.
"Of course!" he laughed again as he poured his friend a glass. "Where are the insurance girls? Wouldn't they like a shot?"
"I doubt it," said Vash. "Meryl was about ready to kill me last time I got drunk. If we dragged her or Millie into the bottle, I'd never hear the end of it!"
They laughed and drunk some more. It wasn't until around midnight that the crowed thinned, their voices thickened and the conversation got a little more interesting...
* * *
"You know," Wolfwood said, pointing at Vash and leaning into the table, "it isn't easy being a traveling priest."
"Really?" replied Vash, whose gaze was following a lazy fly.
"Oh no, it can get complicated." Wolfwood slammed his hand down on the table. "More beer!"
"Haven't you two had enough?" scolded the barmaid.
"How many have we had?" Vash asked.
"Twelve, sir."
"Well," said Wolfwood, thoughtfully, "we said we'd drink twenty, right? How many more does that leave us?"
Vash held up nine fingers. "This many!"
The waitress rolled her eyes once more and set down another two bottles. "I think you two need to go back to grammar school."
Wolfwood looked confused. "Why would we need to go to grammar school, if you want us to learn how to count?"
Both men started laughing as the woman walked away, shaking her head. They each poured a glass (magically not spilling a drop) and toasted each other.
Wolfwood smacked his lips together and scratched his head. "What was I talking about?"
Vash thought for a moment, and then guessed, "Converting to Buddhism?'
"Oh, right! Traveling priesthood...nope, it ain't easy, no sir. You gotta' carry all your own stuff in your own little bad. And, you gotta' come up with your own ideas to figure out how people will want to talk to you about their private lives outside the church. Nope, not many people want to do that to a stranger."
Vash tightened his make-shift headband and asked, "Is that what your mini confessional is for?"
Wolfwood opened the bad that was sitting on the floor and took out what appeared to be a miniature church with a big hold in the bottom. He placed it on the table and lit up another fag.
"You know, that's a good example. People don't want to pretend that they're in a church, so I guess you gotta' bring it to them."
Wile sipping at his drink, Vash poked at the cross atop the mini church and observed it. "How did you come up with this thing, anyway?"
"Funny you should ask, I was just thinking about that." The priest blew a puff of smoke and sighed. "It's all because of a kid named Mel."
"Mel? Isn't that a girl's name?"
Wolfwood shrugged. "That's just what I called him. His real name was..."
"Melvin?" Vash guessed.
"No, no, it was Brian." Vash got a really confused look on his face and watched his friend drink. Wolfwood continued, "But, seriously, this kid was something kinda' special. He was an orphan who wandered into our church some time ago. When his birthday rolled around, he said the only thing he ever wanted to do was to become an altar boy at the church. Let me tell you all about it..."