Date: Tue, 22 Jul 2014 08:10:48 -0700
From: Vince <vindoesanything@hush.com>
Subject: Missionary Man 1

Some people in your life have more profound influence on the person you
become than others. This is the story of the man who, in a lot ways, made
me who I am.

My name is Josiah but since my middle name is Jacob, everyone has always
called me JJ. I was born in the mid-70s in a remote rural part of the
Missouri Ozarks. At least that's the way it was growing up in 1980s.
Nowadays technology has sort of forced everyone closer to the 21st century.
This was backwoods and so were all of us. Hicks and hillbillies. And of
course, bible beaters and holy rollers. In that sense I was raised even
more behind the times than some of the other kids around because my daddy
was the preacher at our church. Our church was a charismatic Pentecostal
church, centered around the idea that the holy spirit gave the faithful
gifts such as the gift of speaking in tongues or the gift of prophecy.
Yeah, it was one of those churches. The women weren't permitted to wear
short sleeves or anything but long skirts or dresses. They weren't allowed
to cut their hair either so many of them wore theirs partially or fully up
in some type of bun. Yeah, it was one of those churches. Women weren't
allowed to speak, ever, when they were in the sanctuary. It was clear that
men were in charge of the church and the home because that was God's
command.

As a boy I guess I am thankful I didn't have to be bound by so many rules
of modesty. No I was never allowed to wear shorts unless I went swimming
when I could wear swim trunks. The women and girls of my church couldn't
even go swimming. There existed no bathing attire modest enough for
that. My daddy was bound and determined to make sure that his family and
his church resisted things of the world because those were the domain of
the devil. My daddy, Brother Hez to everyone else, didn't bond as well with
me as he did with my older brother, Zeke. Yes, everybody had bible
names. Hez was short for Hezekiah and Zeke was short for ezekiel. My
momma's name was Sarah. Anyway, my brother Zeke was 6 years older than me
and exactly like my dad. Convinced the world was full of people mostly
destined to end up in hell. Everybody except people who believed and acted
just like we did. Daddy and Zeke shared the same interests outside the
church, too. They hunted pretty much anything that moved in Ozarks mountain
forests. Yes I have been lucky enough to eat some strange culinary delights
in my lifetime. My granny's signature pot luck dish was Possum Stew, which
was neither possum nor stew. It was actually a meatloaf made of raccoon
meat. Someone who thought they were hilarious apparently gave it the
misleading name.

My daddy, however, was distant with me. We were very different I suppose. I
never liked to hunt. Didn't have moral objections or anything, I just
didn't have that primal urge I guess. Also, I was the only blonde in the
family. My parents and brother all had brown hair and brown eyes. I was
blonde and blue. Also, I was fascinated with what most everybody else
called "book learnin'". I suppose I was an unusually bright kid, especially
given the locale. Every time I had my nose buried in any book that wasn't
the King James version of the Holy Bible, I would hear about it from my
father. That didn't serve to make us any closer. My momma was more
accepting and loving toward me but she never dared chastise my father. You
see, women were on the same level as children in our culture. It was the
man's job to keep everyone in line and prevent them from eternal
damnation. So yes corporal punishment was not only permitted, it was
considered sinful not to punish wives and kids physically. The common
phrase spoken to a kid or wife who, in the eyes of the father, had
committed some sinful misbehavior was "Go cut me a switch." Oftentimes in
moments of an especially maddening misstep, the father would just smack the
offender across the face a few times.

In the summer of 1983, when I was 7 years old, everyone in my
church—especially my family—was thrilled by news that our very own
missionary, Paul, would be returning to report his evangelistic successes
and to take a short break from his work to renew himself spiritually with
his home church. In my mind at this time, Paul was larger than
life. Pictures of him and dramatic stories of his faith surrounded me both
at home and church. You see, when my parents were first married and daddy
was only associate pastor of the church, Paul's parents died in a car
accident.  Paul was just a teenager himself. His folks were what we would
have called "unsaved" meaning they didn't go to our church. Paul's daddy
was a drinker and one night after a few too many, he drove his Plymouth
straight—the road actually curved unfortunately—into a huge oak
tree. Somehow or another, my parents actually ended up taking teenage Paul
into their home. He was nearly an adult, but my daddy thought he needed
saving in more ways than one. Paul's salvation story was legend in my
world. Grieving from his loss, he first rebelled against my father drinking
and smoking and sinning like devil himself. He ended up getting arrested
for something. Here the story differed depending on who was telling
it. Some would say drunken brawling at the HB tavern. Others would say it
was something worse. They didn't specify, but they somehow knew it was much
more serious.

Instead of bailing him out, my daddy left Paul in jail. He would only bail
him out if he agreed to repent and give his life to Jesus. At first Paul
refused, but people in our church apparently took shifts praying outside
the county jail, 24/7. It was Hillbilly Holy War to hear it told. 40 days
alledgedly passed before Paul miraculously saw the light and agreed to my
father's divine commands. Miraculously, just after he was saved, all
charges against Paul were dropped (Brother Ed at our church was Sheriff Ed
on weekdays). From that legendary day forward, Paul was my daddy's
apostle. Studying the bible in every possible moment, getting filled with
"the Spirit" right and left. He spoke in tongues like angels, so the story
went. He preached the gospel like the original Apostle Paul apparently
because in his last year of high school he doubled the number of youth at
our church. It was only natural that he become the church's youth
pastor. However a year or so into the job, he heard a message from God
telling him missionary work was his true calling. My daddy was—and I can
totally see this even though I wasn't there—thrilled at the idea of his
church having its very own missionary. Sending someone to preach the gospel
to the spiritually ignorant native people, causing them to drop their voo
doo dolls and pick up bibles was a calling of global magnitude in my
daddy's eyes. And I'm sure it was good for his ego as well. From then on,
the church funded Paul's missionary work in southeast asia.

This homecoming was especially exciting for the church because he had been
so busy saving souls in the Phillipines, he hadn't made a return visit in
two years. For that reason, memory of him was fuzzy. I was only 5 the last
I saw him. I remember him being full of youthful energy and joy. Pleasing
the adults with his spiritual conquests and pleasing the youth by giving
them loads of attention. I remember thinking of him as somewhere between
boy and man because he was just too nice and happy to be any of the adult
men I was exposed to at the time. He loved to play games and talk with the
preteens and teens almost as much as they loved doing the same with him.

The last time he came home, I remember sleeping on the couch and letting
him sleep in my bed in the room I shared with Zeke. This time around would
be different for a couple of reasons. First of all, my daddy had supposedly
gotten a really good deal on an old RV, what we called a motor home back
then. Daddy had pictured the vehicle as a spiritual tool for the church to
spread the good word, but since you get what you pay for usually, the RV
was rarely, if ever, in working condition. So basically it sat by the
garage and was useful only as a guest house for church visitors as it could
still be plugged into the electricity and you don't need an engine running
to pump the waste tank. The second reason Paul needed the RV now was
privacy as he had surprisingly married one of his Phillipino converts. A 20
year old girl named Mei (pronounced like May). Paul was 30 by this
time. The church was high on the excitement of all of this.

They arrived on a Saturday evening and the next morning the church greeted
Paul like a rock star. Everyone wanted to talk to him, hug him, meet Mei. I
remember Mei as very pretty and exotic to my sheltered eyes. Barely spoke
any English at all, but she was dressed the part. She looked just like
every other woman in my church. Her long hair in a bun, showing skin only
on her face and hands. It was kind of oddly out of place, almost like when
children dress up as adults for a school play or something.

My daddy welcomed Paul home officially before his sermon and announced Paul
would have plenty of pictures and stories during the next week's Sunday
service. With Paul and Mei in our usual pew, there was nowhere for me to
sit when I came into the sanctuary. I started to sit in the pew behind our
normal one, when Paul grabbed me and pulled me onto his lap.

"I can't believe how big you are now, little brother." he said in hushed
voice.

I sat on his lap for the entire service with him constantly rubbing my arms
and legs gently, pausing only every once in a while to hug me tightly to
him. I wasn't nearly as excited as everyone else before Paul arrived, but
now I was enthralled because he paid so much attention to me. During the
afternoon, he came into my bedroom and played in the floor with me,
seemingly more excited by my toys than I was.

That evening we had a church BBQ after the service and once again I found
myself on Paul's lap, this time in a lawn chair on the grass. Again he
constantly caressed me enough to make me take notice but not enough that
any of the other adults take notice. At one point, he hugged me into him
and whispered in my ear.

"You're my favorite. You know that?"

I loved the attention.

Close to bedtime, my momma fussed about making sure the visiting couple had
everything they needed in the RV.  My brother's friend Isaac was spending
the night with us. I think he was pulled in by the glamour of Paul and Mei
because he asked my father for permission for him and Zeke to sleep in the
RV, too. My father initially said no because the newlyweds needed their
privacy, but Paul reminded daddy that he and Mei had been married almost a
year.

"Besides," Paul said, "when I come home it's my only chance to be close to
my family. It'll be great sleeping under the same roof as my brother for a
change."

Apparently, Paul was the only person who could emotionally manipulate my
daddy because consent was given. I was surprised but also jealous as all
get out. The RV only had two beds. The "master bed" was the biggest at the
back of the rv.  Then there was another that pulled down from above the
driver and passenger seat up front.  There used to be a single bed along
one side but my daddy removed it in hopes of installing forward facing
seats to maximize the number of passengers. I guess he thought we would
pick up hitchikers and convert them on the road or something.  Because of
that, I went to bed envious of my brother and his friend.

Summer weekdays around our place were pretty quiet usually. My daddy spent
Mondays alone with the Lord reading the bible in his office. This
particular Monday I awoke to find only my brother in the house. He was at
the kitchen table eating oatmeal.

"Where is everybody?"

"Momma thinks Mei can't survive unless she has a sewing machine, so they
went to East Hills to get her a fancy one. It's our wedding present to them
I guess."


All day long I assumed that Paul had gone with them also, but when momma
and Mei pulled in late that afternoon I realized I was wrong. Momma asked
me to carry the sewing machine box to the RV. As the three of us approached
the RV, the door swung open and out popped Isaac. Once again my assumptions
were wrong because I figured he had simply gone back home when I didn't see
him with Zeke.

"Isaac, are you out here bothering Brother Paul?" Momma asked.

"No ma'am." he replied. "Brother Paul was telling me what it's like being a
missionary in foreign lands.  I think I might want to do that some
day.. It's sounds like an adventure for the Lord!
  "

He smiled really big and turned to run to our house. Once again I felt
jealous because Isaac was spending time with Paul the whole day and I
hadn't known.

I was surpised yet again when Isaac not only asked permission to stay over
another night but also asked if he and Zeke could sleep in the RV
again. This time it was my brother who objected.

"You can sleep out there if you want, but I want my own bed tonight. That
bed out there is about as comfortable as sleeping on sharp rocks."

Isaac looked deeply disappointed until Paul piped in, "Isaac I bet my other
little brother would sleep out there with you tonight. He lives for
adventure. You can see it in his face."

"Daddy, can I?" I asked and with an approving nod I was in my pajamas and
headed to the guest house on wheels with Isaac, Paul, and Mei.

Once inside, Paul said to Mei simply, "Bed." With that she immediately went
to the large rear bed and pulled the privacy curtain without saying a
word. Paul pulled out a deck of cards. I probably gasped audibly because we
were forbidden to have cards because daddy just knew it would lead to
gambling and eventually hell.

"We're just going to play Crazy 8's," Paul said. "there's no gambling in
that game. It's just for fun."

Paul and Isaac taught me the rules and we played a couple of hands before
Paul announced it was bedtime. Isaac and I climbed into the front bed while
Paul switched out all the lights. Then, strangely, I heard the privacy
curtain open and Paul turns on the light above the back bed. Mei was barely
visible off to one side but even still I think that was the most exposed
female skin I had ever seen. I began to realize she is either naked or in
just underwear.

I look over at Isaac. His eyes are glued to the scene as well. With the
back light on it was almost as if the bed was a stage and we were the
audience. It was unlike any play I had ever seen. With the privacy curtain
still open Paul removed his shirt. Then his pants. He was wearing white
briefs like every male I had ever known. He turned toward Mei and said
something I coudn't make out. Then he pulls down his tighty whiteys, steps
out of them and turns to sit on the bed. I remember thinking that he must
have some sort of tube covering over his dick because what I saw was so
incredible large. Slowly I began to realize that it was simply large. At
that time, mei moved over close to Paul. She indeed was naked, but I only
had a second to be surprised because what she did next surprised me even
more. She put his dick in her mouth. Right there in plain sight. I looked
at Isaac, who turned toward me with a big smile on his face.

"What are they doing?" I whispered to him.

"She's giving him a blow job." he replied.

Apparently I had a confused look on my face because Isaac continued to
explain.

"Sex. They're having sex and we get to watch."

I knew nothing about sex except that you weren't allowed to even think
about it until you were married. Otherwise it was very bad.

"Isn't that dirty?" I asked.

"Not when you're married like they are. Plus it's fun to watch. Doesn't it
look fun?"

"Yeah, I guess." I said as my eyes returned to the action. Mei was moving
her mouth up and down on his dick while he sat on the bed facing us. In
fact, he was looking right at us. I don't know if he could see us in the
dark watching them, but he was looking right at us.

Then Isaac whispered, "They did it last night for me and Zeke. He didn't
like it though. That's why he went back inside as soon as the sun came up."

Jealously, I inquired, "Why did you stay out here most of the day?"

Isaac looked me in the eye. "Don't tell anyone, but Paul has a bunch of
magazines with sex pictures in them. He let me look at them and explained
all sorts of stuff."

A tingle went through my stomach.

Then Paul added, "He wants to look at them with you, too. He told me. He
said that you are something really special or something like that."