Honour Thy Father & Thy Mother
The third year student's rooms were above the chapel.
It was said that Fr. Finnegan had seen the devil there one night when he went in to pray. It was all over the college the next day.
It frightened us.
The wooden desks in our classroom had seen better days. Each one had a bit of history, of something, or someone inscribed on its surfaces. One of the first things I did whenever I sat at a new desk was read it.
We had come up to collect our school bags after playing soccer in the alleys.
There were older boys there doing some study. I wondered why they hadn't gone to study in their own classroom but I said nothing.
Class was done for the day.
We were in good form and I only caught the end of what one of the older lads said....
"....because of your appearance"
"What's wrong with my parents?"
Eyes burning
With a piercing rage.
Right fist raised.
Tethering on the brink of a white knuckled assault.
That muscled arm, strong and hand normally unused to any violent action was trembling fiercely.
Twitching.
Wired now for justice.
For the honour of his lovely parents.
I could see his urgent need to protect their integrity after this affront to their good name.
It overshadowed all consequences of what might unfold in the principal's office later.
"I said your appearance not your parents!"
My friend dissolved.
Embarrassed.
Shrunk.
The fight was gone from him.
He had not seen a trinity on that pedestal.
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