The Testicle Tabernacle

Well, I’ll be.

Friend, I’ll tell you how I found out, because it took some doing. The Academy sent their letter to the address on my website. I don’t have an address on my website. I have a picture of my truck and the words FOLLOW THE YELLOW TRUCK. So somebody at the Academy, bless them, mailed it General Delivery to Kingman, Arizona, figuring I’d come through eventually. I did come through eventually. It sat there eleven days.

The lady at the window says, Reggie, you got something fancy. Gold seal, red wax on the back, the whole business. I about didn’t open it. The last envelope I got with wax on it was from a lawyer in Needles, and that went poorly.

I opened it in the cab and read it twice. Then I read it out loud to the jars, because they’re the ones who did the work. I mostly drove.

I want to thank the Academy. I want to thank the Kingman library for the use of the computer. I want to thank every rancher, farmer and pet owner who ever flagged me down at a weigh station holding a jar and not knowing who else to call. And I want to thank the burros of Oatman, who don’t know they started all this and wouldn’t care if they did.

People ask where I’m keeping the statue. It rides up front, bungeed down next to the coffee pot. It’s the only thing in that truck that isn’t in a jar. When the Tabernacle gets its foundation poured, it goes over the door.

R. O.