The Car Wash

One day in high school, my best friend had picked me up to drive to another friend's house. Off of the main road, we saw signs for a free car wash, and, in the spirit of never turning down anything that is free, we decided to stop by. The car wash was run by a youth group from South Carolina who were promoting some sort of religious endeavor. My guard immediately went up. I have never been a fan of organized religion, and become all the more skeptical when it is being flung upon me by devilish little children.

The group had been travelling by coach bus, apparently hitting up all the states along the eastern seaboard. I have honestly never seen such enthusiastic tweens in my life. I would venture to say the pastor was partaking with them in some sort of lewd sexual activities on the bus. Anyway, I didn't really know what were were supposed to give them in a form of a donation, because they were refusing to take money. I hastily put the two crumpled dollar bills that I was planning on giving for a donation back into my wallet. We sat in my friend's saab while soaped up 12 year olds got frisky while sponging down the car. One of the girls (a ginger with a mouthful of neon green braces) indicated for us to roll down the window. In the thickest southern accent I have probably ever heard, she said

"Instead of donations, we are asking if you would please join us in a prayer circle".

Oh fuck me. I have a tendency for laughing at extremely inappropriate times, and I knew that I was totally going to lose it. Not to mention, we are at a hillbilly Chevron station off of a busy road, and I don't want anybody I know to see us. We reluctantly stepped out of the car, where a pre-pubescent boy held out his hand for me to step into the circle, which was about 20 people deep (my friend and myself being the only outsiders). The minxy ringleader just happened to be the afore-mentioned ginger, and she pulled out a laminated card with a picture of Jesus on the cross, and a prayer or scripture of some sort printed underneath. She began reading the first line (I distinctly remember her saying that Jesus would forgive us), and then slowly but surely, the rest of her little minions started joining in. The only thing that would have made this prayer circle more cult-like was if a man in a white cloak appeared from out of the ground bearing a candle and holy water. The complete and utter awkwardness of the situation was too much.
I burst into fits of hysteric, uncontrollable laughter the second I made eye contact with my friend. There was nothing I could do. The persistent ginger brushed off any offense she must have taken by this outburst, and kept reading, her voice never wavering. I kept apologizing profusely in between fits of laughter. After what seemed like an eternity, the prayer ended. We jumped into the car and sped off. Amen.