Mooning the Preacher

I don’t know how mooning started as a thing. Was it a prank, a stunt, or a joke? I can see a comedian bombing onstage and thinking, “Well, I’ve got nothing else left,” before reaching for his zipper. Or did some soldier looked at his enemy and decided, “I cannot beat you, therefore, I will expose my butt to you!”

In case you’re too young or too mature (doubtful since you’ve read this far) for that sort of thing, the dictionary defines it as:

Moon /slang/: (v) to expose one’s buttocks to (someone) in order to insult or amuse them.

It may have disappeared from popular culture for a time but was ushered right back in with that paragon of cinematic genius, Porkies. That movie spoke to me. There were several things my young self took away from it, one of which was a desire to moon someone.

One must wait for the right time and situation to moon properly. Or sometimes, those situations just arrive and you unwittingly share full view of your buttocks with innocent eyes. So it was for me.

The summer of 1984: my friend Andy and I had been asked to paint the interior of the youth building at our local church. It was a good job, even though we weren’t good at it. I recall that we were covering an off-white with a pale brown. Of course, the first thing we did was paint all kinds of bawdy words on the walls, giggle, and then cover them with paint to make them disappear. And we almost got caught. Luckily Andy was able to distract while I played Letter-man and brushed over a consonant or two.

That should show the maturity level of the paint crew. If more evidence is needed, what happened when these paragons of sophistication go to the other building to wash their brushes and find a 35mm camera sitting on a shelf?

Naturally, they moon it. They moon it from every angle!


Andy didn’t think there was film in the camera so he became the photographer. He was snapping away while I posed like a butt model – if there is such a thing.

“The camera loves you!”

“Yes, to your left a little. A little more. That’s perfect.”

We were hamming it up when we heard two sounds that stopped us cold.

The first was the sound of the door opening.

The second was the unmistakable sound of the camera rewinding a roll of spent film!

Andy quickly put the camera back up on the shelf while I covered my bum and we hurriedly resumed our brush-washing. Luckily, the film finished rolling up before the preacher peeked his head around the corner. We made small talk and scuttled back to the other building as soon as possible.

Grace is a remarkable thing.

We finished painting over the next few days – a little more serious about our work than before. While we expected a hand of justice at any time, it never came. I found out later the church used that camera to take pictures of new members. Can you imagine what happened when they got that roll of film developed? I have a vivid mental picture of that kindly preacher sitting in bed with his wife and the pictures fresh from the Fotomat.

“Oh, honey look – the Clements. What a nice couple.”

“And the Jenkins. They’re a handsome family. This could be their Christmas card. I think I’ll give them the negative.”

“Mr. Adams – he’s such a stoic man but I think he’ll be a good usher…”

And then… my butt… over and over again from many different angles. Still, he never said a word. Grace… or perhaps he is waiting for me to get famous and then he’ll blackmail me over my butt-tape.

Rationally I know the market for that would be nonexistent. I just like to think that he chuckled about the clowns he’d hired and threw the pictures out. But maybe, maybe the preacher was a Porkies fan, too!

Grown-up fiction

I am insanely proud to announce the release of my first work of adult fiction, The Rabbit.

The Rabbit  was born out of the loss I experienced when my friend and mentor, Jack died six years ago. My beta reader was none other than Kylie who laughed and encouraged me all along the way. But I only thought I knew what loss was at that time. After Kylie died, my intimate knowledge of grief helped me to further develop my main character, Sam and the book into what it is today.

The Rabbit is a coming of age story that begins in the summer of Sam’s eighth year. He is a typical boy who loves summertime, baseball, and torturing his older sister. Sam and his best friend, Jeff share trials and laughter as they learn about their world together. But along with the good times of childhood, tragedy and grief enter Sam’s life far too early until a surprising and unique relationship helps to pull him from his emotional hole.

Climb inside the mind of a boy for the first time or relive your childhood while you romp through a decade in the life of Sam.

The Rabbit : A charming tale of love, loss, dirt and frogs.


Boys will be boys – and Sam Morgan is a good boy. In his own words:

“A majority of boys are given some degree of moral code. My parents gave me great instruction regarding right and wrong. I’ll not say that I rebelled against it, I simply meandered along the gray area. I’ve heard it said that most people draw a line of behavior. We try to keep ourselves on the right, or proper, side of the line. Over on the other side of the line is wrong behavior, which looks very appealing. So rather than fold our arms and turn our backs on wrong behavior, we put our toes as close to the line as we can get them and lean over the line as far as possible. Naturally, we fall across the line we’ve drawn into the behavior we had set our minds to avoid. So it was with me. I constantly found myself crossing the line and being disciplined for it (when I got caught.)

Yes, I was a good boy – but I don’t mean ‘good’ in a virtuous sense. I mean that I was good at being a boy in a proficient or competent way. And if I was good at being a boy, I was technically excellent at being a little brother.”

The Rabbit is available on

The Rabbit-2