A Narrow Escape

Like these clowns could catch me

From Scientology, that is. Or, more precisely, from a certain aggressive and extremely engaged Scientology recruiter. My brother and I were wandering around downtown Boston sometime in the early seventies when an Earnest Young Man came up and asked us if we would like to learn about Scientology. Being the polite fellow that I am, I said sure and we started following this guy towards some sort of storefront recruiting center. Then the thought occurred to me that this was kind of weird and I was kind of hungry and I could give two shits about Scientology anyway so I did the first thing that popped into my mind, which was to turn around and start running full tilt back the way we had come, leaving my poor brother standing there with the bewildered EYM. Now my brother takes off after me and damned if the Scientology guy didn't take off after him. In those days I was fast and I doubt that there was a Moonie, Hare Krishna or Tom Cruise on Earth (or Teegeeack) that could outrun me. I was even faster than my brother who was a college athlete and who, although stronger and uglier than me, didn't have those afterburners. Unfortunately I ran myself into a blind alley, followed closely by my brother and that track star Scientologist. My brother catches up to me, punches me in the stomach and while I'm hunched over gasping for breath explains to the EYM that I'm having bowel issues. The guy gives us a puzzled look and splits. No one wants a recruit with dirty drawers, not Scientology or even the Army. I don't believe my brother was too happy with me. In retrospect, a simple "No thanks" would have saved a lot of running. But I feel as though I did save my brother from the clutches of this particular cult (I haven't even gotten a thank you yet), I just can't do anything about the one he was born into. Of course, I still have those Thetan clusters harshing my mellow, but what are you gonna do?  I just don't have the dough to get clear.