Friday, September 03, 2004
Meeting the Pastor
Bill Kaul here. Here, as in, here in this big bright shiny church. The pews are empty. Light comes in through the stained glass all around. But this is clearly a Protestant church. Baptist. Big dunking tank. There’s a man stretched out in front of the altar, face down, arms stretched out toward the big wooden cross hanging above. He’s wearing a nice blue suit and shiny loafers.
How did I get here? Last thing I remember was asking Chef Pharaoh what was for lunch, and him saying, “There is no clearer biblical broth than that of Jude 3, which comes with a choice of sides: Biblical Monotheism, Unbiblical or counterfeit Monotheism Murderous or Satanic Monotheism (GOP style), Polytheism Pantheism Monism (crispy), or New Age Impersonal Force (served cold), with or without hard lemonade and dainty scrolls.” And I was thinking, yummy, and then…
And then I was here, pulled here by--? Something like a whirlwind, only fluffier.
Figured I better find out who the prostrate guy is. You know, next logical step in the investigation. I pulled my badge out of my pocket, held it in one hand, while in the other snuggled my trusty .38.
“Hey!” I shouted. “Monad police! Keep your hands where I can see ‘em!”
The figure didn’t move. I approached warily. There was no sign of life. I turned him over.
Shit. It was Jesus. I recognized the face from the painting on the wall next to the dunking tank. JESUS, it said underneath, in big red letters.
Yep. He was dead. What now? Wait for him to resurrect? That could take awhile. If only Mullah Billdoug wasn’t out playing with hurricanes, he could resurrect him. Hm. I pulled open one of his eyelids.
That’s strange. What’s this?