The Power Of The Jesus Spoon

When I was three years old there was a strange boy who lived over the road from us. He was only a year older than me but to me at three, he at four seemed huge. His name was Danny, he had red hair, freckles and smelt a bit funny. He was also very strong. I think it must have been summer, I remember it as being hot, I remember the sound of cicadas and that we both wore t-shirts and shorts.

 

The thing that set Danny apart from anyone else was that he always carried with him a tarnished old silver teaspoon with a Christ-like figure on the handle. The photo above is a spoon I found in an antique shop a few years ago, it’s identical to the one Danny used to carry. The antique dealer told me that they came in sets of twelve and depicted the twelve apostles. To me, however, it was always The Jesus Spoon.

 

I don’t remember Danny and I being friends as such or ever playing together. I do remember being over at his house once. We were in his front yard one afternoon and he had his Jesus Spoon. He led me over to a big piece of dog shit on the lawn and we looked at it for a while. It was quite fresh and probably came from his dad’s dog, Brutus, a German Shepherd that scared the absolute piss out of me even from across the road.

 

Danny dug a scoop of shit out of the glossy turd on the lawn with The Jesus Spoon. If not for the odour it could have been a scoop of chocolate mousse. I watched with fascination as he turned the spoon and put it into his mouth poo-side down and drew it back out clean. He moved the shit around in his mouth and swallowed. From his mouth movements it looked as though some of it had stuck to the roof of his mouth like peanut butter. The thing that amazed me was that he did it and didn’t appear to be suffering. How did it work?

 

He dug out another scoop and offered it to me:

 

Try some. It’s nice.

 

I was unconvinced.

 

No thanks

 

Really? It’s really good.

 

He put the second spoonful of dog shit in his mouth and ate it. It was quite a trick. I couldn’t work out how it worked. Was it the spoon? Did The Jesus Spoon have some magical power over the poo that made it taste like something wonderful? He really was enjoying eating it and it really was poo. This was a very interesting day.

 

He went for a third scoop and offered it to me again. I was starting to feel a bit of pressure, he was 2-0 up on me and I knew that, if push came to shove, he could probably force me to eat it if he chose to.

 

C’mon, try it, it’s really good.

 

Hmm. No thanks. (pause) I’ve seen where it comes from.

 

There, I’d said it. I wasn’t going to be fooled, but how would Danny react? He stood looking at me, spoonful of dog shit in his hand. He looked right into my eyes, taking me in, looking for some sort of clue as to what was going on in my three year old mind. I knew I couldn’t run, he’d catch me easily and force-feed me poo, I just had to stand there and wait.

 

Too bad.

 

He just shrugged and stuck the third spoonful into his mouth and smiled a big gleeful poo-smile. He swallowed it and for a moment I wondered if maybe I really was missing out on something. Only for a moment though, I saw my cue and went home.

 

See ya, Danny.

 

Danny and I never became friends. Our differing views on munching dog turds set us apart. Plus, I didn’t trust that he wouldn’t try and force me to eat the poo one day. He never did, but a few days later he came over to my house and ate some of my dog’s poo.

 

This is my earliest memory and it still haunts me a little to this day. I suppose that’s why I bought a Jesus Spoon and put it on my wall.

12 Responses to “The Power Of The Jesus Spoon”

  1. Ahh the riff-raff that crosses paths in childhood. I do remember at the ripe old age of 7 watching Rusty Robson (age 3/a young 3) getting suckered into the dog turd/chocolate bar ruse played by his older brothers. It was uncomfortable to watch, but I did laugh. I’m not proud.

    My father fell for my “smell my finger” trick when I was 4 🙂
    What was he thinking? He only had 6 kids before me!!!

  2. post script: hey you are working your way up the “humor blog site”. Good work 🙂

    I stop voting for you when you hit the top 30 though!
    (just kidding; your stuff is always a great read)

  3. Hans Licht Says:

    The Jesus Spoon! The all seeing, all knowing cutlery.

    When you wish to consume canine excreta, reach for the omnipotent utensil that gives everything a divine texture and flavour.

    Mmmmmm… Jesus spoon… He knows what you’re eating… And he forgives you for it.

    I should be in advertising! Don’t those tools on the Gruen Transfer make truck loads?

    Surely the Jesus Spoon will find it’s way into some shots on one of the religo-porn sites that shot up after your “jesus gets more hits than me” rant Buck?

    Actually, come to think of it, this posting is remarkable in it’s calm phrasing and reflective tone… Are you brown nosing all those simple theist surfers again Buck?

  4. Gobbaleeno Says:

    This is a sickening read. I felt like puking, I felt shivers and tingles. It was like I myself was eating that poo and feeling like a real sinner… But I couldn’t pull my eyes from the words…

    I love your work.

  5. Punkboy Venus Says:

    I think maybe i’m Danny……….. Fuck you baby Jesus!!!

  6. I remember the kid across the road dropping his pants and (in retrospect, very bravely) sticking his cock in sausage dogs mouth for a lickng. I ran home and didn’t go there again.

  7. I’ve heard of Jesus turning water into wine, so I can’t help wondering what sort of transformation was taking place here. I refuse to accept that he was simply eating poo. I refuse.

  8. You know maybe he wasn’t just playing off and actually liked that poo. My aunt used to suck earthworms like lollipops when she was little. Poor worms.

  9. Antique shops are great, aren’t they?

  10. “Hey mom, can I have something else other than pasta for supper tonight?”

  11. I think there’s always some child that will voluntarily eat something totally inappropriate. At my school, his name was Geoff and he ate just about whatever was in front of him, including some “not-so-bad” stuff like an apple he’d dropped in the playground to the “getting yuckier” original-owner-unknown cupcake at the busstop to the “triple-dog-dare” bugs (mostly ants, but on one memorable occasion, a spider) to the “you must be mentally disturbed” plastic cutlery itself. I bumped into him as an adult and he works at McDonalds, handling the food…

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