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The Church: The Exit (Part9of15)

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*Though this is definitely outside of what I normally write, I’ve decided to publish a novella entitled “The Church.” From Nov. 30 to Dec. 15, I will be publishing the work of fiction in 15 parts. Each day, I will publish a part of the story of Christian and his quest to plant the largest progressive church in the world. I will publish the entire work at the end. Today, I’m publishing PART 9 entitled “THE EXIT” Enjoy!
We spent the afternoon packing. Mississipi can be enchanting. Glaring outside, I just wanted to go out and play in the leaves. I knew better. I had to get all of Rev. Dr. Val Buffington’s final things into her small car. The rest was shipped a few weeks earlier. I loved getting to know Rev. Dr. Buffington’s wife Letitia and daughter Clarissa. The Buffington’s were an amazing family. Upstairs, there was a purple box full of pictures that I took a second to look through with Rev. Dr. Buffington. Lifting off the top, I got to see many intimate moments from her past. I knew this was holy ground. With each picture, we grew closer. As we were packing up the final things, we talked about the future of the Cathedral of the Swinging Dicks. I loved every part of her plan. I hadn’t been this excited about the church since we started. Rev. Dr. Buffington passionately kissed Letitia and Clarissa goodbye. Though she knew they would join her soon, two weeks was the most time they’d ever spent apart. Clarissa had to finish out school. I will never forget that final goodbye. We became the closest of friends on the car ride. We talked as if we were sprinting a marathon. Truth be told, we were still talking and not really paying attention when we passed into Louisiana. The two trucks came from both sides. I saw the red one first. Rev. Dr. Buffington never had a chance. The truck dropped a log through her window. By the time we stopped, I was banged to hell and Rev. Dr. Buffington’s head was sitting in my lap. I thought these types of decapitations only happened in horror films. “What was going to happen to the Cathedral of the Swinging Dicks?” “What was going to happen to Letitia and Clarissa?” “What was going to happen to me?” The blue truck spilled gasoline. The car was burning. I could smell the fumes from my flesh. I’d never felt such a sensation from my legs. The flames were rising higher and higher. The last person I saw was a huge redneck trucker wearing a confederate flag hat with chewing tobacco drooling out of his mouth. He picked me up and saved me. Before the car blew up, I heard someone assured me that things were going to be ok. Three weeks later, I woke up under the most intense white light I ever saw. I was covered in bandages. The doctor leaned over my face. “You’re going to be ok.”

Lying in that hospital bed for over six weeks was all I needed. I was done. Though it was nice to see news coverage all over television about my progress, I knew that I didn’t have the passion to keep ministering forever. Phoning my leadership, I asked them to open up a national search for my replacement. Once the process started, I instructed my leadership that I would lead interviews with the three finalists. Is it bad that I already knew exactly who they would be? People stayed by my bedside throughout my recovery. There was one new person that I grew to love. Wearing his confederate flag hat that he had on when he saved me, Chuck refused to leave me alone. I grew to see him as a trusted friend. When it came time for me to go back to Texas, I told him he could go back with us if he left the confederate flag and his racism in Louisiana. Chuck obliged and became a trusted member of my inner circle. Though people were practically beating down my door, I refused to do any interviews. I honored the family of Rev. Dr. Buffington, preached like I’d never preached before and championed multiple local initiatives. All of it was well and good, but I just wanted to find the next pastor of the Cathedral of the Swinging Dicks.

Over two weeks, I met with three people. Rev. Dr. Phillip Fuller was full of hot air. Everything he said was so dumb that I couldn’t help but laugh. Rev. Dr. Fuller also kept farting in the interview. When your ass makes your potential employer throw up, you don’t get the job. Rev. Dr. Bob Pinkston came in with a full erection and pulled out his dick. I guess he thought he was going to fuck his way to the job. I couldn’t believe how small his penis was. When I told him that I was calling the police, Rev. Dr. Pinkston got the hell out. After interacting with the first two sacks of shit, I was scared of what could come next. Then, Rev. Dr. Angela Utopia walked in. For years, Rev. Dr. Utopia ministered in the streets of Jackson. For some time, I admired her passionate work. This was a real prophet y’all. By the end of the fourth question, I knew everything I needed to know. I hired Rev. Dr. Utopia right there on the spot. A black transgender woman of color would eventually lead the Cathedral of the Swinging Dicks. The last thing I told her at the end of the interview was, “Shake it up baby!”

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