In honor of Palindrome Week (7.10.17 – 7.17.17) I give you the following:

We panic in a pew weeping with tons o’ snot if the solos are out of tune or the preacher’s still preaching at noon. “Rum… Rum,” I murmur, as the sermon goes on and on. “Don’t Nod,” I tell myself.  Embarrassingly, I realized, I am the preacher.  “Is it I? It is I!”

Here was my sermon:  Dennis, Nell, Edna, Leon, Nedra, Anita, Rolf, Nora, Alice, Carol, Leo, Jane, Reed, Dena, Dale, Basil, Rae, Penny, Lana, Dave, Denny, Lena, Ida, Bernadette, Ben, Ray, Lila, Nina, Jo, Ira, Mara, Sara, Mario, Jan, Ina, Lily, Arne, Bette, Dan, Reba, Diane, Lynn, Ed, Eva, Dana, Lynne, Pearl, Isabel, Ada, Ned, Dee, Rena, Joel, Lora, Cecil, Aaron, Flora, Tina, Arden, Noel, and Ellen sinned.

Oh No Don Ho!  The folks didn’t like that sermon.

“You preach too long,” they yelled.

I did, did I? I yelled back. Mad as Adam, they stormed out and I ended the homily as a civic duty to the remaining hungry souls. That day, the Baptists beat us to the restaurant even without a racecar. I’ll level with you, I guess I did preach too long.

Usually, following the service, Nurses run, a boy in a kayak floats, and Neil, an Alien flies to the closest eatery.  As I made my way to join them, a kid from my gym (that I always refer to as Yo Bozo boy) yelled “Go Dog!” Finally, I arrived and the waitress said, “Sir, I’m Iris. There’s no lemons, no melon. Would you like soup?

“Wonton? Not now,” I replied. “Madam, I’m a tuna nut. My mom made the best casseroles, but desserts, I stressed, were her specialty.” Iris was not impressed and brought me a sandwich.

And so, ends my palindrome tale, no wonder my boys say, “Pa’s a sap.”

 (If you were counting at home, there were 30 Palindromes in the previous story.)