Date: Sun, 8 Dec 2013 22:15:46 -0500
From: Blonde Mountaineer <blondeallover@hotmail.com>
Subject: A Carol for Rev. Ebenezer ~ part 1

		     A Carol for Rev. Ebenezer Ch. 01
		       by blondeallover@hotmail.com

This is the 1st chapter in a 4 part series. The reader will recognize the
story parallels to a holiday classic.  All the usual disclaimers apply.


 "Merry Solstice, Uncle Scribner!"

 "Merry Christmas, nephew!"

 "But the solstice is tomorrow, and it would please me to no end if you
would join us for the local queer people's Yuletide pageant and party at
the old union hall tomorrow afternoon." The youth with the perpetual
twinkle in his hazel eyes was determined to say his peace before the salt
and pepper haired older man raised his avuncular objections. "After all,
you have never made your orientation in gender preference a secret. . . The
spirits be offended, this rectory is always so cold at this time of the
year."

 The older man who was host at the rectory squinted and paced his reply in
a low tone so as not to lose his temper in anger. "We have been over all
this many times, Fred. I have chosen to make my life's work in service to
the church. It is not prosperous but afforded me many rewards and
stability, nonetheless, . . . .unlike other gallivanting gay blades I can
think of. If you think I would risk compromising my life of dignity by
attending a celebration so steeped in Godless idolatry, you would do better
to drown yourself naked in that no doubt profane punch you heathens will
refresh yourselves with tomorrow."

 A hearty chuckle burst from deep in the nephew's chest. "The spirits know
how dearly I love you Uncle Scribner Ebenezer. Who else could come up with
such colorful imagery? Somehow I will try to work such a thing into one of
the games. But, I know. 'Love the sinner, but hate the sin'. . ."

 "That 's right, nephew! I am proud of upholding a life of celibacy in my
best efforts at devotional service. Our Lord led a celibate life at a time
when it was expected that all young men, no matter how righteous, marry and
sire children."

 For a minute, the smiling twinkle left the eye of the good natured younger
man. "Are you sure it has nothing to do with the special mention in your
special books of unkindness towards the queer men because of their manner
and sexual conduct? Or maybe that is a particular concern of your
colleagues in the church?"

 "Don't be blasphemous or disrespectful, nephew. Maybe you could benefit
from the structure and order a life of faith through the guidance of the
church could bring you."

 "I did not come here to argue with you Uncle. Perhaps my new lover will
straighten me out to a life of more constructive and steady pursuits. It
would mean so much to me if you dropped by at least just briefly so I could
introduce him to you."

 "A young man with certain professional or vocational experience under his
belt, huh?"

 "Uhh no, . . . He has just been awarded his Masters in Biochemistry 'cum
laude'."

 The older man's lips parted and eyes drew back in his head briefly. "Oh,
how promising. Don't tell me. He has tens of thousands of dollars in
tuition debts and no prospects in this infernal recession? A great mentor
he will make for you."

 "Oh please Uncle Scribner, chill and lighten up. This is the festive time
of year. Don't you love the lights at dusk and the chill in the air in
fresh fallen snow? Bob Crocker out there who is shoveling the paths of the
church compound will be there. You know he is blessed with a queer son and
daughter and the whole family will join us in celebration."

 The older man responded in his sternest tone, "Count your blessings where
they will do you the most good. For the last time, I could never join your
feast of revelry's impiety. Good afternoon, Fred."

 "Merry Solstice, Uncle."

 "Your solstice festival is so much humbug. Good afternoon and Merry
Christmas."

 "As you wish, Uncle. Merry Christmas!"

 Fred had re-situated his scarf and hat and was about to walk out, but when
he opened the vestibule door of the rectory, two men were seeking
entry. "You two look familiar to me."

 "You are not Rev. Moorfield or Rev. Ebenezer."

 "I am Fred Blade. We have met before because I have volunteered with the
gay and lesbian hot-line. I will see you friends, tomorrow. Good luck with
this geezer." The nephew trudged past them as Rev. Ebenezer had approached
to greet them at the door.

 "Rev. Moorfield, we presume."

 "Evidently you are not affiliated with this congregation. We can only pray
that Rev. Jacob Moorfield is enjoying the peace of paradise in the loving
arms of our Lord. For it was on this very night, 7 years ago that my
partner of this parsonage breathed his last."

 "We heartily offer our condolences for your loss. Then we presume we are
addressing Rev. Ebenezer."

 "What can I do for you gentlemen this evening?"

 "On the occasion of this festive time of year, we seek provision for the
counseling of our troubled brothers and sisters who share our alternate
sexual orientations. For the best outcomes and solutions from circumstances
that can even be life threatening, professional resources are expensive."

 "Are there no crisis centers with our state hospital? As both a man of the
cloth and someone how you put it so delicately, who "shares our alternate
sexual orientation," the doors of many of the churches of the community are
open for counseling to young people troubled by a full range of assaults to
a positive spirit."

 Both guests suddenly realized they were still wearing their hats and
pulled them off as a gesture of embarrassed respect. "Well pardon us for
saying so Rev., but many would rather die than experience a commitment to
State Hospital and they fear only further recriminations and or evangelical
appeals from the churches to abandon their nature."

 "Well perhaps it might be useful to instruct them that they will receive a
loving welcome from many of the churches of this community, lightening your
obligations. Good evening gentlemen."

 "You mean, you yourself wish to remain anonymous?"

 "I mean, expect nothing from me, short of steering your troubled youth to
the auspices of this church and our graceful attentions. Good evening."

 The two young men walked out silently. The sun had sunk below the horizon
in the western sky with a quickness that is always surprising at this time
of the year. "Come in from the dark, Bob Crocker. . . You are a hearty soul
and I see you have not suffered the worse for having been outdoors in the
cold for the last 3 1/2 hours."

 "It was a pleasure to greet your nephew, sir ~ such a friendly
light-hearted fellow."

 "He is a shiftless fool with little or no direction in his life. He would
do well to pray to his Creator to forgive his many sins. But we have other
things to talk about.

 "Tomorrow, I suppose you will be wanting to attend that annual lewd
gathering of debauched souls with your family?"

 "Just tomorrow afternoon if it is not too inconvenient, sir."

 "I will give you the whole day off, but it is outrageously
inconvenient. We have yet to finish the holiday decoration of the church
and compound. I will need you all the earlier the next morning. You will
also be given Christmas and New Years off over the next 10 days."

 "Oh yes, sir. Thank you. You can count on me. Merry Solstice, Rev."

 "Your pagan solstice is a humbug."

 ***************

 An hour later, Rev. Ebenezer stepped out briefly to fetch some cheap
vittles for a light dinner. He nearly slipped on the compound walk. Except
to minister to his flock on a holy occasion, he despised this time of
year. As he unlocked the rectory front door, he thought he saw a facial
image in the ornate door knocker ~ someone he recognized but could not
place.

 After preparing a light meal poorly heated in the kitchen microwave, he
returned to the parlor to stir the spare embers in the fire. He saw that
face again in the flames. He heard that voice for the first time. "Eben
-eeeee-zer. Scribner Eben-eeeee-zer!" The old servants bells rang and the
chimes on the mantle clock chimed simultaneously. When the noise stopped
and all was still but for the ticking of the mantle clock, the middle aged
man who was the only resident in the spacious dwelling looked around very
startled. The adrenaline rush faded and he thought, "that fuzzy-headed
nephew is right about one thing, I need to lighten up. I shouldn't let
types like him and that Crocker get under my skin. That, and stay away from
cheap frozen pizza."

 He returned the dishes to the kitchen, made sure the fire in the fire
place would extinguish safely, and climbed the stately staircase. He used
the bathroom briefly and retired to his bedroom with its comfortable
antique bed. He had his flannel night shirt out and had just stripped to
the altogether, had his night shirt raised to lower over his head and the
rest of him to fend off the chill of the room when he heard the voice
again, as if its originator were standing next to him. "Scribner
Eben-eeeee-zer! I see you still take care of your body without anyone to
share your firm flesh in intimate passions." A dim light appeared out of
nowhere on the other side of the bed. It seemed to enclose a vague
apparition.

 "Who the devil are you and how did you intrude on to these premises?" The
startled man dropped the garment to cover the most immodest place of his
nudity at midsection from the vision of his surprise guest."

 "Ask me who I was?"

 "Alright, who were you?"

 "I was your classmate at our small seminary who went on to be accepted
with you in joint pastor-ship of this congregation, despite our attractions
to others of our own sex." The specter spoke with a moaning effect but his
voice did approximate that of Ebenezer's old partner in ministering. The
vision sharpened and did assume familiar characteristics, but chalky and
gray.

 "Jacob?"

 "You don't believe in me."

 "You could be my imagination playing tricks on me after a disagreeable
day. That and a bit of undigested bad frozen pizza. Am I supposed to
believe in someone wearing such a ridiculous outfit?"

 The specter opened its mouth and let loose an ear-splitting
wail. "EBEN-EEEE-ZER! I do not wear this leather and carry these chains to
submit to the overriding urges of one who would tie me down and dominate me
to suit the grittiest of gratifying acts of corporeal manipulation. . . . I
would probably be a free soul and shorn of these restraints in death if I
had enjoyed the former in my lifetime. Now do you believe me?"

 The rattling of the chains was deafening and the shocked and startled
resident waited for its conclusion before his reply. "I do. I must. Can you
sit down in that chair?"

 "I can."

 "Then please do so. . . You speak of wearing those cumbersome devices as
an obligation. I don't understand. You were a pious contributor to the
church. I marveled at your inspiring sermons. Your commentaries in
ecclesiastical journals were esteemed in all of Christendom. Had you lived
Jacob, there would have been no limits to your standing in the
dioceses. You were nearly perfect in the business of ministering to our
flock."

 "All mankind was my business, especially to those who shared our peculiar
physical attractions, Scribner. Not just earning special institutional
ecclesiastical attentions. Without realizing it, I forged these chains in
my life for self-serving self righteousness, never inspiring others to the
bonds of love and warmth with passionate physical connection."

 The resident, now shivering in his nakedness, was the most startled yet by
his deceased partner's unexpected declarations. "But Jacob, we learned that
these 'connections' as you call them are just momentary carnal release and
satisfaction. They are really one of the curses from the Fall of Man and
have no place for the love and esteem we hold for each other for the love
of Christ."

 "Jesus preached we could attain grace first and foremost for the love we
have of each other, especially the love of the scorned most among us. We
seek that love by any means, necessary. Yes, Scribner! ~ by any means. I am
burdened to walk this earth for all eternity such as you see me now,
because I withheld my love in all its urgency for passion and devotion. It
is the great pleasures in the fulfillment of the passions that forge the
bonds of love and the caring sympathy and celebration for others who seek
the same for themselves."

 Moorfield's spirit seemed agitated with his living partner's profoundly
baffled expression. He opened his mouth as if to wail again, but restrained
himself. "Scribner you can remove that silly garment from concealing your
genitals from me. . . . You still don't get it, do you? I loved you. I
yearned for you with all the hot tingling feelings of lust that can beset
mortal man, especially in the genitals. Were you so impervious to my desire
for you? I know you caught me gazing at you. You remember we had open
showers at the seminary dormitory more in the fashion of a High School
locker room. Did it never occur to you that always coincidentally when you
wanted to shower, I would be there to do so, as well?"

 "Really Jacob, there is no need to be profane in your confessions about
us."

 Now the specter did wail and rattle his chains once again. "PROFANE!?!
That I would gladly have taken your erect cock and put it my mouth to
stimulate a load of semen from it for my thrilling delectation. How is that
for profane? Yes, Scribner, for years I was urgently curious how such a
thing would have tasted. I would have splayed myself, naked at least below
the waist, on a mattress, a couch, or a even a carpet and thrilled to have
you penetrate what was no doubt my once very hot and tight mortal rectum,
the friction which would have caused an ejaculation from your splendid long
erection of your warm semen deep into my very viscera. How is that for
profane? I would willingly have done the same for you and marveled how
desperately your stretched open little hole would have snatched at my
throbbing manhood. I wanted your arms about me. I wanted our tongues to
mate in sumptuous kisses."

 The specter nearly hissed what he had to say next. "Nooooo, my partner in
life, just as I have learned these past 7 years, you have it all
backwards. Profanity is the very restraint from the pursuits of romance,
love, and yes lusting pleasures of the maximum intensity. . . . I have come
for your reclamation. You will wander the spirit world in misery as do I
unless you change your ways and do your best to seek out love, very much in
part through the satisfactions of lusts with intense application. For the
sake of your immortal soul, Scribner Ebenezer, you will need to do the best
you can to be a generous lover in every respect."

 The resident still naked, his swelled penis pressing against the
concealing garment stimulated by such graphic assertions, had stopped
shaking. But he was more puzzled and disconcerted than ever. "Jacob, I am
aging and have become set in my ways. How would you suggest I make this
exotic metamorphosis?"

 "This very night, you will be visited by 3 spirits at the top of the hour,
the first to visit when your church clock strikes 1. They will take you
places and show you things that, if all goes well, demonstrate to you the
true value of real love and passionate physical affections. . . .

 "Heed them well, Scribner Ebenezer. Your immortal soul depends on their
ministrations toward you."

 The specter moved away, its light fainting, as if to float through a
closed window and into the open sky of the vast cold night. As nearly a
life long minister of the church, Rev. Ebenezer could not help but
contemplate the irony of the specter's last remark. Absentmindedly, still
clutching the night garment, he pulled back the covers of the bed and
climbed into it in his nudity, in total contravention to the normal routine
of his night time slumber.

to be continued . . .