My heathen brother and my wild imagination

B4 (brother number 4 in case you just started reading and you have no idea what all these Bs are. They are brothers. I have too many of them) (also when I told B4 what I referred to him as, he said "Before? why would you name me Before? Before what?")
Wow, ok, I'm going to start over.
B4 is a heathen. That is what we (and by we I really just mean my mother, but I say we so my mom doesn't start calling me a heathen too) call people in the family who don't believe in Jesus. People outside the family who don't believe in Jesus are beautiful, wonderful people. But, B4 is a heathen. I have to congratulate my mother in the fact that out of her eight children, only two of them are heathens. AND these two (B2 and B4) are the only two children in the family who have red hair. Which makes me giggle uncontrollably sometimes, because gingers don't have souls! This same fact does not make my mother giggle for some reason, even though I repeat it over and over again, just to make sure she understands.
I am not a heathen. As we have established, I love Jesus. We must also establish that drinking tequila with Jesus doesn't make you a heathen, it makes you awesome. And tipsy. And might also be the answer to bringing world peace because, as B1 once exclaimed, "I have never had a bad experience with tequila! Tequila just makes you HAPPY!" B1 is a 30 year old with two babies but always ready to go out and grab a margarita with me.
Anyway. The topic of B4's soul-less-ness has come up a lot lately. Every Sunday after church my family (grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins and their babies) invades the local bagel shop (we literally take over) and we have a nice little chat about the Jesus and love and my plans for life (seriously, how does this conversation always come up?). But because of Lent my grandmother has been thinking about the family members who are not at the bagel shop because they are soulless, fiery, heathens.
So on Wednesday my grandmother called my restaurant to make a reservation for five people on St Patrick's Day and then asked to talk to B4, who is a cook in the kitchen. As soon as he got off the phone my mother called him. When he got off with her he turned to me.
"I think they are going to have an exorcism."
This got me all excited and giggly and intrigued.
"Ha! They are going to save your heathen ass!"
My grandmother had called to invite him to dinner and then my mother called to make sure he said yes.
"Who are the five people?" he asked me.
"Hm, probably you, Gram, Papa, Jesus and St. Patrick. They're bringing in the big guns for this."
"There is going to have to be a priest. To perform the exorcism."
"Um, St. Patrick is a priest. And you don't think Jesus can handle an exorcism? He is JESUS. He sent the devil into a pack of swine and drove them over a cliff. Oooo I wonder if they will send the devil into our goats? I hope not, I like our goats."
"Annie, the devil isn't in me."
"The devil told you to say that. Good thing St. Patrick is coming. He'll get the devil out of you like he got the snakes out of Ireland."
Notice my great knowledge of Catholic things?
"If St. Patrick does come, I will absolutely convert."
So I gave Jesus the finger pistols, with a wink, and said "Do your magic." Cause that's how we roll.

It turned out that the actual people joining my grandparents for dinner were two priests. Which made me giggle. And get REALLY excited because I thought something fun was going to go down.
I got into work this morning and hopped right over to B4. "Have you been saved?!"
"No."
"Humph, well did they try to save you?"
"No."
"Then what the heck were you there for?"
"Just for dinner, because we haven't had dinner in awhile."
"But the priests!"
"Annie, our grandparents always invite priests to dinner. They feel it is their duty to feed to the priests."
"They didn't try to throw Holy Water on you?"
"No Annie."
Well WHAT is the fun in that? All night I was imagining all sorts of crazy holy things going on at the restaurant. And they just had a nice dinner of corned beef and cabbage, drank Guinness, and chit chatted.
No Holy Water thrown about. No one yelling "The Power Of Christ Compels You!" Not even a, "Listen B4, it's time for you to come back to church, OR ELSE!"
Gosh, real life is boring.
But let's remember: Drinking tequila with Jesus = World peace