I once met a preacher in passing. He flattered me, shared his dreams, visions and prophesies, and made me grand promises. He promised me another passport stamp and a paradise bound ticket. I wound up with a passport to his couch and bed, and an 8 inch long, stiff and thick rain check. What a fallacy of a fantasy! One minute we were to ski the slopes of the Poconos, the next minute the Travel Channel was watching me. We would watch the Discovery Channel as he was discovering me. When it was all said and done he’d share his prophesies from above, and rattle off celestial visions as the mattress springs were rattling.
He was all over the Internet, slanted eyes and a big ole grin. For someone so close to God you’d think he’d have an in on automatic teeth whitening. When the promises and purchases began dwindling, I got in tune with my intuition. With less and less of seeing each other, deep inside I knew there was another. I’d miss the blind prophet as a lover but what about her?
I called him on his phone one night while home alone. I had to get to the nitty gritty of the enigma. The phone rang until it almost caught voicemail. I was about to let it go until I heard his rich accent. “Hello?” he asked. “Hello. What’s up?” I replied. “Just calling to say hi.”
“Who is that?” I heard her voice from the mysterious side. The female sounded young, even younger than I. “Oh its nobody.” The snake hissed in my ears. Then the other woman’s voice escalated rivaling the whispers in his. “Wow.” I said. “I see you’re occupied.” “No” he said, “its nobody” to me this time. “No” I said, “Enjoy your time with her goodbye.” “I’ll call you back soon” he said “I can explain everything.” As I was hanging up I could hear in the background an obscene scene. The voice of an enraged woman shouting this preacher man down to his unholy underwear.
Too bad his God-sent visions didn’t reveal what would happen to a two-timing slithering thing with no bite and all hiss. Could have been all his. But the fool 🐕 chose his pot in which to piss.
In usual cool form I brushed it off though shocked by his unholy antics. Ole apostle sure got around mighty quick and his glorious lines apparently worked for him. Last I heard of him, he was back to galavanting the globe 🌎 , preaching and prophesying and selling books with his glistening brown tool. He lived off of the sheep’s tithes to pay his rent, a wolf disguised as being Heaven sent.
The last time I caught him lying he was on TV on the Christian station prophesying and preaching internationally. No hard feelings I hope he’s blessed as far as he can spit and finds success as far as he can see. And I can’t wait for the day a pretty spring chicken comes to roost with rotten eggs spread all over the Right Reverend Dr Bishop Magic Wrong Dick’s gloriously glistening dick. 🙆