Was Stolen part 1

         When I was three, I remember going to church dressed in a white dress. It itched, a lot. The lacy was rubbing against my arm, making it look slightly red and irritated. It didn't help that there it was a choking hot day that made me sweat, and the dress began to look limp and stick to my body, which made me scratch. This began a vicious cycle. Stick, scratch, sweat, stick, scratch, etc.

         The people in the pews looked like they were going to faint. Usually, when the preacher made a good point, everyone would yell, "Hallelujah!" so loudly I would be surprised the windows didn't break. Today, no one could even utter a sinlge, "Hallelujah!"

         The preacher was yammering about loudly, in his most persuasive voice. Because no one even whispered a single word, it sounded as though he was trying to fill up everyone's voices. His face was becoming flushed in his black suit, his back soaked in sweat, and his balding head looked polished. He yelled up to the rafters, his efforts becoming almost silly and ridiculous. If I wasn't so dehydrated, I would have laughed.

         This Sunday's message was about the Ten Commandments.

         "You shall not murder!" The poor preacher's head almost popped out of his suit. "You shall not commit adultery!"

         This went on and on until he bellowed from the platform, "You shall not steal!" a little too enthusiastically.

         And from the back, someone snorted, "Well, ain't that true."

         At this, everyone chuckled in almost shock and amusement, and the humilated preacher looking like he wished he could just disappear.