I was wheelin' down the main street of my one-street town in enzed when I passed two men standing outside a nondescript address – one was a 30-ish guy, pleasant looking and we caught each others eye in a gidday smile. The other guy was about 70, drabbly dressed, drab everything, something akin to the accused at the Nuringburg trials. He was holding a Bible and droning god stuff to the vacant space infront of him.
After I'd wheeled by I heard him change gear to drone more excitably and rather pointedly about carrying a burden in life.
Bugger. The messenger of dread had got me. I carried on faking oblivion to his words but secretly pissed off and already plotting revenge – like placing myself near him and preaching that god is joy and positive affirmation of life and proclaiming I'd been spared from a terrible accident to bring him the message of the errors of his way.
A week goes by. I haven't forgotten. I'm lunching with a friend and I mention this insult to him.
“Ahhhhh” he said. He's fond of saying that. “I know the guy. He's from the Brethren Church. He's doing penance by having to preach in the street. He's the guy who was recently found guilty of that historic charge of molesting little girls.”
This post has been edited by nomis: 31 August 2008 - 10:50 AM

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