Graphic novel

My wife grabbed my leg in church at almost the exact same time that I, too, noticed the collections usher was wearing a graphic T-shirt. At this point, it didn't really matter what the shirt read— it was jarring on its own that the 60-something-year-old collections usher was wearing a graphic T-shirt; for reference, the elderly usher next to him moving slowly down the main middle aisle was wearing a too-big green dress shirt with suspenders holding up a pair of jeans that, without the suspenders, would have no doubt been around his ankles, a wardrobe that was at least trying— but as he moved closer it became clear that it absolutely mattered what the T-shirt read.

YEAH I'M INTO FITNESS

/getting closer/

FIT'N THIS DEER INTO MY

I'm delirious at this point. I was barely able to stay awake during the homily and it suddenly feels like I have just polished off three Red Bulls. The letters are so large that it doesn't seem possible so much text can be legibly contained within the confines of the front of one shirt, especially since they sit alongside the silhouette of a deer's head. It's only the last line I cannot yet read, but that's no matter as I know how this story ends. It ends with mouth. No it doesn't.

FREEZER

My wife let out an audible sound that was some combination of a gasp and a laugh which, if you knew how much she values silence in church, you would understand how out of character this was, and therefore to what degree the sight of this shirt had impacted her. I was literally incredulous, mouth agape, staring, my mind positively racing with thoughts* and potential scenarios that could have led to this fashion choice. We were out of range at the opposite end of the pew, but I pondered whether I would have scoffed at the mere notion of putting money into this man's basket or tossed my entire wallet in there. I didn't know what to feel— offended? pleased? aghast? delighted?— this was an entirely novel experience.

I simply cannot overstate how large the shirt was. And colorful. Orange. Brown. Red. Yellow. It demanded everyone's attention instantly, like one of those planes riding along with shoreline with a trailing banner advertising Mike's Hard Lemonade. Believing what I believe, it would be inaccurate and blasphemous to say that this was the most incredible thing I have ever witnessed at Mass, but on a purely human and comic level it was certainly the most fascinating, and I have not stopped thinking about it since. 

It immediately registered as something we could not wait to tell everybody about, and something I would maybe write an entire book about— a graphic novel— but it ultimately proved so bizarre and without precedent that trying to convey it by any means seemed fruitless, pointless, a you-had-to-be-there cliché and waste of time and energy.

We nevertheless did tell my brother-in-law and sister-in-law, the latter who thoughtfully— after taking the requisite time to digest this information, as one might a recently-thawed deer cooked to perfection— posited that perhaps this particular usher wasn't on duty that day, and was pressed into action by church higher ups. This seemed more than feasible— likely, even!— but only led to more fascination. For if I were of such Catholic authority, and placed into that exact predicament, I personally would have selected literally any person who was not wearing a YEAH I'M INTO FITNESS, FIT'N THIS DEER INTO MY FREEZER shirt to collect money on behalf of the parish and also the poor. It would have been, honestly, my only criteria.

*The fitness pun doesn't work without the "mouth" ending because there is no contrast between being in and out of shape. The fact that it's a deer and not, say, a pizza, adds an element of violence that undermines the shirt's intended lightheartedness and humor. He will receive Communion in this shirt and then pray reverently.