Sunday, 3 August
 |
Good Morning
Justin…
There are no
magazines in Lord Christo’s waiting room.
It is a simple room having a few chairs, curtains drawn shut, a thick
aroma of incense and a gargoyle, with wings like those of a bat, peering down from
a ledge above the door. An elderly cat
sleeps curled at the base of a Gothic-carved pedestal. It holds aloft the steady burn of a stoic
white candle, thick in its own drippings.
An apparition from another century appears at the door. He is tall, severe in features, dressed all
in black.
“Yes, how can
I help you?”
“Hello. I’m Delores from the Reelect Cory Fletcher for
Senate Campaign. Are you Ldchris Carew?”
“I’m Lord Christo.”
“I see. Thank you. Are you familiar with Cory Fletcher?”
“And he is…
?”
“He’s our
Senator. He’s working to make government
more responsive to people such as yourself.”
“How would
he do that?”
“Oh, there
are any number of ways. I’m sure you are
aware of the crisis in higher education.
Cory Fletcher would provide more money for schools. Is this something that would be of interest
to you?”
“I can give
it some thought.”
“Can we
count on your vote then for Cory Fletcher in November?”
“Listen, you’ve
caught me at a bad time. I’m about to perform
an exorcism. Maybe you could come back
later this afternoon.”
“Oh, I’m
sorry. I don’t know if I’ll still be in
the neighborhood. How about I leave you
our Cory Fletcher on the Issues information
pamphlet?”
“Yes, that
sounds fine.”
“Do you
think you can support Cory Fletcher?”
“I’m
definitely considering it.”
“That’s
wonderful. Would you be interested in
doing volunteer work for Cory Fletcher?”
“I’m sorry. There’s a soul in terrible pain in the next room. I must return to my work.”
“I’m sorry. There’s a soul in terrible pain in the next room. I must return to my work.”
“Yes, of
course. You have a beautiful home.”
“Thank
you. Bye.”
Love,
Dad
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