Unsuccessful jam session with Ernest Serrano, the salad bar prophet

 

                 Actual photo of the salad bar prophet (left) and myself.

I had a jam session scheduled, and some people were over to the house setting up for it. There was a lot to do in that regard, such as building a stage out of lumber. It was all very confusing, since there was no one really in charge. 

I went around to the various rooms of the house and found that most of the people had either left or were sleeping in the guest beds. There were two twin beds in each room, so I'm guessing this had been planned for. 

I went downstairs and started having my own little solo session, playing all of the instruments myself and recording them. I left the door ajar, in hopes that someone would hear me playing and come join in. That never happened, so I went back up in search of the missing band.

Ernest Serrano was the only one I encountered. He told me that the rest of the band was either sleeping or had gone down to the park to smoke marijuana with some prostitutes. Only he specifically said that they went to the park to "NOT smoke marijuana with some prostitutes," which I took to mean that that's exactly what they were doing. 

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Ernest was not one to mess around. In the church/cult that I attended in the '80s, he was one of the few people who had the balls to stand up to the leader, Pastor Robert Leon. Of course, this got him kicked out, but I'll say this: he went out with a bang.

It was during a worship service, right at the beginning, when, out of the blue, he stood up and proclaimed, "Thus, saith the Lord..." In that moment, I knew something epic was going to happen. No one had ever stood up during the service and prophesied before. This was gonna be good.

"Thus saith the Lord," Ernest repeated the words to a now dead silent room. "You are leading my people astray with your wicked example. You are stealing salads from the salad bar at Carl's Jr. You pay for one salad, and you pass the plate around to the brethren. Woe to you, for you are a stumbling block to the world!"

I don't recall if I ever heard a "get out" out of Robert or not. It was a foregone conclusion. Ernest packed up his briefcase and left the building, never to return. I spoke to him many years later on Facebook, and he was still adamant about the salad issue.

That's all I got. I believe I was going to make a frozen pizza and maybe head down to the park with the other band members, but nothing ever materialized.