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“It would be nice if, every now and then, one of you would massage my balls,” said Father Xaverus from his pulpit. “And another thing, while I’m at it: I like having my asshole tickled. And no long, dirty fingernails. Yeeeeeccchhhh!” Some phlegm leapt from his throat and was inadvertently, though fortuitously (he thought), propelled into the second pew. To celebrate he spun around, bent over and raised his alb to reveal his generous, flabby donkey to the congregation. Upon spreading his cheeks (an action he often referred to, affectionately, as spreading the Gospel of the Word) he simultaneously caught his beard in his cincture and let fly a rolling, sonorous flatulence followed by a volley of soft turds accidently, though fortuitously (he thought), machine-gunned from his hidden rectory. Thus was his message dispersed over the gathering. Father Xaverus was so pleased with the dimension this gave his sermon he forgot his beard was fixed and in an attempt to view the fecal effect on his Flock, he lost his balance and tumbled down the steps. The Deacons began chanting.
“Stop fidgeting and pay attention,” hissed Herta at young Franz. “Sorry mom,” whispered young Franz wiping an anal log from his forehead. Normally Father X’s sermon was his favorite part of Mass but he felt recently the good Father’s words were unfocused. Also he was having problems at school. Herta turned and winked at Mr. Chriktonk in the eigth pew. She was astonished at her nerve and at the guilty pleasure surging through her belly. She glanced at her husband and, as usual, he was dozing. She dabbed at the smear of shit in his hair with a hanky.
The next morning at precisely 10:04 am young Franz's teacher, Mr. Frode, jet-stream puked on top of his head
like he had done every morning for the last two weeks. Young Franz removed chunks of partially digested ham from his notebook and raised his hand. He had some questions about the lesson.
Date Written: April 16, 2004
Author: John Slocum
Average Vote: 3.6