I didn’t know that Ingrid had also been an Episcopalian prior to coming to CCC, and she was telling a story about getting hazed in the choir. Apparently, they decided that the new kid had to sit next to the meanest old biddy in the Alto section. So Ingrid shows up in all her, “what’s up, bitches?” glory and the lady immediately says, “I like you.”
Sunday morning rolls around, and instead of slits through to your pants pockets that most cassocks have, their cassocks had their own pockets, deep enough for a wallet, a set of keys… Ingrid says you probably could’ve fit a baby in there but she never tested it…. and Ingrid finds out that this woman has a full flask of whiskey hidden under her surplice. The “mean old biddy” takes it out during the sermon and says, “you want a sip?” It was at this point that I said, “where three or four are gathered, so goes a fifth?” The women around me just burst out laughing and said, “OH MY GOD! I’ve never heard that one.” I laughed because that’s the first time I’ve ever heard anyone say that.
Now see, that’s the problem with being a congregationalists. Our robes don’t have pockets.
Stories That Are All True 