by David G. AnthonyMy cousins have a strong religious streak—
teetotal Bible belters. I don't like
those Jesus freaks: the worst one’s Pastor Mike.
To my surprise I heard from him last week.
He wrote, “You’ve met my helper Pete, I think:
I used to take him with me when I went
to spread the Word. The man was heaven-sent
to demonstrate the ill effects of drink.
He’d drool beside me in the Gospel Hall
and urinate, then fall about the stage;
or, turning to my flock in drunken rage,
he’d stagger forth and vilify them all.
He’s passed away, the poor pathetic slob:
so how about it—would you like the job?”