A Parable (1)

[Sister Fracture]

TGRR and The Calvinist

"Hey. Help me get my boot out of this toilet."

Reverend Bill looked up from washing his hands to find a large, bald man with an aggressive mustache leering at him. "Pardon me?" he said faintly. This man, he thought to himself, was most certainly A Sinner.

"I said, help me get my boot out of this toilet. It offended me, so I kicked it, and now it's stuck."

Reverend Bill dithered while attempting to sneer at the man. It was harder than normal. The  man really WAS very big... "It offended you? How on earth could it do that?" The man was insane. Clearly not one of God's chosen.

"Well, it wasn't a toilet when I got here. It was the fountain of youth, cleverly disguised as a toilet. And then she told me that there was no such thing as the fountain of youth, and to just 'flush the damn thing already, and to stop eating that fucking peyote all the time or fucking share', which is ridiculous, beacuse why does a fountain of youth disguised as a toilet NEED cactus anyway?" And then the man giggled. It was a sound that made the hair on the back of the man's neck stand up.

Now, Reverend Bill was a Good Christian. He had always believed the right things, and told other people to believe the right things as well, because they would Burn In Hell if they didn't, just like his father, and just like his father's father. But this man... This man was not really a man, but a demon. He was sent by The Devil to test him. Yes.

A sound came from behind the large man. It sounded like the voice of a woman at the other end of a phonecall. "Well, I could think of a few good reasons why a toilet would want to trip balls, but seriously, Roger, FUCKING SHARE next time. Greedy ass bastard."

"HAH!" Roared the man, apparently called "Roger," and he spun around and strode to a stall. The Reverend just now noticed that one of his boots was indeed off, and there was a growing puddle on the floor. "YOU'RE JUST TRYING TO MESS WITH ME AREN'T YOU? I SWEAR, HOLY MEN TEE EM GET NO RESPECT, NONE AT ALL!" And then he laughed.

While the man named Roger was busy shouting, Bill thought it best to sneak away. Watching for signs of Roger turning his attention back to him, Reverend Bill ran full force into the paper towel dispensor, giving his arm a good knock. It went numb, but Bill just ran toward the door.

Out in the parking lot, Bill tried to catch his breath. It was difficult. He supposed he ought to try and eat better, the wife had been mentioning how much weight he'd been putting on. Feeling was coming back into his arm, but it was pins and needles, and spreading to his shoulder. His breath wouldn't come, either. He panted, and tried to shake off the pain in his arm, when God showed up and started tromping on his heart. He had a brief flash of insight as the pain mounted - there wasn't a lot he could look back on and call --

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Where do I get this reputation?

I am the very model of public restroom civility.

The moral of this story, incidentally, is crystal clear.

[Sister Fracture]

Where do I get this reputation?

I am the very model of public restroom civility.

The moral of this story, incidentally, is crystal clear.

Shut up. You know you like it.

[Richter]

 

"FUCKING SHARE"!

Nicely done!