Mabel Mae Goes to a Star Trek Convention

Mabel Mae Greene is a sixty-six-year-old African-American who lives next door. She’s a lovely woman who cooks me dinner once a week. She recently took a cab to the New Orleans Convention Center to attend a revival sponsored by the Cleveland Avenue First Baptist Church. Reverend Thaddeus Withers was to deliver a sermon titled “Conform Not to the Things of This World,” based on Romans 12:2.

The taxi dropped her off at the wrong door, however, and Mabel Mae thought that the Romulan who greeted her was simply wearing the church’s new, though highly unorthodox, choir robe. Just as her near-sighted eyes adjusted to the light in the convention center, two Klingons took her gently by the elbows and guided her into the Grand Ballroom. Because of Mabel Mae’s new hat, a wide-brimmed straw affair with shrimp boats on top, the Klingons thought she was surely an alien from the planet Rigel 7.

Now seated, Mabel Mae looked around and thought she needed to have a sit-down with her nephew and optometrist, Dooley Watts, who had recently been released from Angola State Penitentiary, where he’d served time for lewd and lascivious behavior toward a minor.

“When does the sermon start?” Mabel asked the Andorean in the seat next to hers.

“Shatner?” came the reply. “He’ll be out any minute.” The Andorean’s antenna brushed against one of Mabel Mae’s shrimp boats.

At this point, Mabel Mae was definitely not conforming to the things of this world.

When the captain turned Boston Legal barrister finally took the stage and began speaking, Mabel Mae gave up the standard “Amen!” and Alleluia!” every few seconds, just as she did for Reverend Withers on Cleveland Avenue. People laughed at first, but security approached after five minutes. Trekkies wanted to hear the Shat. Mabel Mae’s formidable back vinyl purse was at the ready to whack anyone who tried to forcibly evict her from the service.

“What’s the matter, dear?” Shatner called out.

“I want a little ‘Amazing Grace’ is all,” she yelled. “Is that too much to ask?”

“Of course not,” said the Shatner, who had several forgettable albums under his belt.

And so the entire ballroom began to sway back and forth to the strains of the beloved hymn, ole Bill leading his worshippers, happy that he didn’t have to answer any standard trek questions for the time being. Besides he loved to sing, if one could call it that.

Mabel Mae had been lost, but thanks to a thousand people from the twenty-third century, she’d been found.

(Picture: Public Domain)