Case of the Mysterious Mixed-Up Mixer

There is a fancy sound mixer at my parish, passed on from the reign of the previous pastor. Unfortunately, no one but the pastor had ever been trained on how to use it. Accordingly, it is locked up in a closet and everyone (including myself) is afraid to touch it.

This weekend, however, I got to pretend to be a Sound-Techie because, for some reason, things started not working.

Fr Jim noticed that his wireless mic wasn't working; so I set up a free standing mic at the altar. But just before mass started we found that the choir mics were also on the fritz. So after mass I ventured into the forbidden closet and perilously peered at a mixer with enough keys and buttons to make an organ look easy. I finally found the answer to one problem: the sound for the wireless had been turned down ridiculously low and a few other bits were messed with also. I fixed them all, put away the free standing mic, and congratulated myself that everything was ready for the next mass.

Except when the next mass came around, the wireless wasn't working. Then the next mass, the speaker in the cry room stopped. Every time I thought I'd fixed it, something else went wrong. Oh, and did I mention that I was preaching all this weekend?

My Pastor and I were both frustrated and puzzled: the closet with the mixer is not only forbidden and scary, it is also locked. How was everything getting messed up? I mean, I was quite willing to take the blame after I started pressing buttons and things, but someone was tinkering with it in the first place. Father figured that it was the cleaning lady, but I had other suspicions...

Obviously, who ever it was didn't like my preaching. I suspect Heretics. They hired someone—a secret agent, or a cat burglar—to sabotage the sound system. A devious plot; nearly successful too.

It wasn't till Tuesday morning that one of the office ladies and myself went back into the forbidden closet to try some more sound checks and perhaps fix things (again). I was again perilously peering at the mixer when suddenly she shrieked “there's something alive in there!”

Startled as I was, I glanced around the corner long enough to notice a ball of white fur that moved—which was plenty enough for me to decide it was a good time to lock the closet again and let the professionals deal with this. We went back to the office to call animal control while Father went back to the closet to look at the creature (my Pastor prides himself on his rugged, cowboy demeanor. I don't even listen to country music.) He came back with the verdict: it was a small, white, half-starved kitty.

I was right—they did hire a cat burglar! And then they let their pawn starve after her job was done—the heartless fiends!

And so (*switching to “Guy Noir” voice) the mystery of the Mixed-Up Mixer was solved. Kitty was picked up by the authorities and taken where she belongs. But still, the mastermind to this crazy caper was still out there somewhere...and so my job is not really over...it's never really over...