Dressing for Success

Catherine groggily felt her eyes open, “Hmmph,” she said through her something covering her mouth.

Still half asleep she turned her stiff head to the left, only to see the pastor she’d met this morning, an older white man happily staring at her.

Smiling from his spot by the large bed, Pastor George said cheerily, as though it wasn’t midnight in the suburbs of Seattle, while standing over a fellow Christian in her home, “Evening Catherine, sorry for the bother, you know how it is in the faith. Sometimes you just have to show a little persistence to really get your message through. Don’t bother, yanking at those attachments, they’re quite sturdy really, good solid bedframe too. You’re what 5’ 4” if you’re an inch? No need to strain yourself. No need to worry about Daniel either, he’s quite happily sleeping on the couch.”

Showing his slightly yellow teeth, the man with fading hair, reached down, gently patting the tense blonds matted hair, “We’d almost given up hope you know? Currently, as Nietzsche so prophetically and heretically stated, God is Dead. Not of course because he’s gone, but because no one believes.”

“Well,” he paused. “None of the right sort. Unfortunately, you’re not quite perfect dear, but our local branch of faith has spent quite some time pondering that possibility. That is, the possibility of an imperfect Saint. You’ll be pleased to hear that is no obstacle.”

“In face, we have prepared an entire outfit! We’ll start with the basics.”