Free The Tenor Wore Tapshoes by Mark Schweizer Page A

Moosey had found the Mars bar in my coat pocket and was already unwrapping it.
    "The Scripture Chicken!" said Moosey, jamming about half of the candy bar into his mouth.
    "Did you go to the tent service last night?"
    "Mmou mnbeb weeb mmoomd," said Moosey, his mouth now full of chocolate.
    "I'll wait," I said. "Why don't you swallow first?"
    Moosey chewed as fast as he could and gulped down the first half of his candy bar.
    "You bet we went," he said with a gulp. "We was on the front row. You shoulda seen that chicken."
    I looked up and noticed that Ardine had come out onto the front stoop of her trailer. She looked like a woman who had lived a hard life. Looking at her, anyone might guess her age at fifty or so judging from the premature lines etched into her face. She was probably about twenty years younger than that. Ardine was thin, kept her hair pulled back, rarely wore makeup and had a habit of crossing her arms in front of her that gave her a look of perpetual distrust.
    "Brother Hog," said Moosey, "…that was his name, swear to God…put this chicken on top of this giant Bible and the chicken started scratching around and then started peckin' at one of the pages and Brother Hog had a man read where the chicken was peckin' and then said he was going to preach on what the Holy Spirit had told the chicken to pick." I was impressed. Moosey got the whole sentence out in one breath.
    "He let us pet the chicken afterwards," said Moosey. "He said that she was a holy chicken and that we shouldn't pull her feathers. Her name is Binny Hen." Moosey started on the other half of the Mars bar.
    "That sounds like great fun," I said as I walked up to Ardine.
    "It was pretty good," said Ardine in her flat voice. "I liked the sermon better than the chicken, but I guess that if that's how the Lord chooses to speak through Brother Hog, I don't guess I can fault the Almighty for it."
    "The chicken really picked out the scripture?"
    "Far as I could tell. And I was sittin' right up there. That chicken started scratchin' at them pages, and then, after some pages had been turned, she started peckin'. That's when Brother Hog says 'The Holy Spirit has shown Binny Hen our scripture for this evening. Brother Gene shall now read it, and then I shall preach on it.' And he did."
    "What scripture was it?"
    "It was Second Corinthians. The Love Chapter."
    "That was a good choice by the chicken."
    "It was the Holy Spirit," said Ardine with finality. "And there were five people saved and three rededications."
    "I'm glad it was a success. Are you going back tonight?"
    "Yep. And takin' the kids, too. Brother Hog's gonna let 'em take up the offering tonight."
    "Sounds like a fun evening."
    "Nothin' fun about it," said Ardine, opening the door and holding it for me to enter. "This is God's work."

    * * *

    "You saw who ?" asked Meg. We were sitting in a booth at the Slab having a late lunch. The crowd of bun-lookers had slimmed for the time being.
    "You know, I hesitate to even bring this up," I said. "I may have been dreaming. I'm pretty sure I dozed off during that Gorecki piece you've been after me to listen to."
    "Did you like it?"
    "The symphony or the ghost?"
    "Well, the symphony. We're both pretty sure you were dreaming about the ghost."
    "Why are we pretty sure?"
    "Because," said Meg, "if you actually did see Raymond Chandler's ghost and talked with him, he would have begged you to stop defiling his typewriter."
    "He said I was pretty good."
    "Which simply proves my point. You had to be dreaming."
    "It seemed pretty real. He left the light on."
    "No kidding," said Pete pulling up a chair to the end of the booth. "He left the light on?" I hadn't known Pete was listening in. But I should realize by now that there are no secrets at the Slab.
    "Hmmm. What about the symphony then?" Meg was persistent.
    "It was OK. I liked the first movement."
    "But then you fell asleep?"
    "And burnt a hole in my sweater," I added in disgust. "I could have burned the house