After several years at St. Onuphrius’ Evangelical Eric, my utterly useless and shamefully foolish Curate, has announced his intention to leave us to serve as a Missionary. Naturally I’ll be sorry to see him go, since replacing a Curate is never easy when one’s parish has a history of spontaneous diaconal combustion, and I really have much more important things to do with my time than interviewing young men at that stage of their career when they still believe Ministry has something to do with making the world a better place.
Certainly there’s been times when I’ve had to speak harshly to the imbecile, but there can be no denying he has proven a useful Ministry asset: as an Evangelical he was ideally equipped to develop a positive rapport with our Patriots for Palin Fellowship (formerly known as the “Happy Tuesday Mornings Intellectually Disabled Kraft Klub”), and by participating in a number of experiments deemed too cruel and dangerous for laboratory animals he assisted in establishing an extremely profitable relationship between the Parish and our Community’s leading business group: the Ichabod Springs Pesticide Manufacturers Association.
Consequently should he wish to return before we’ve managed to replace him with someone equally stupid (no easy task) his hammock in the chicken shed at the bottom of the garden will always be available. Still, it would be remiss of me not to encourage him in this exciting new phase of his Ministry, and so I have personally undertaken to offer him guidance and assistance in his courageous move to the mission field.
Initially the lad was dreaming about preaching to dusky bare-breasted maidens and handsome smiling warriors on a tropical Pacific Island, but after prayerfully considering his future both Bishop Quinine and myself realized the Lord is actually calling him to boldly deliver the Gospel to a Taliban training camp in the mountains of Northern Pakistan. We have therefore faithfully arranged his transport, including the hire of a donkey to carry his possessions on the nine day trek from the nearest airfield, and believe me, those tribesmen know how to drive a hard bargain. Being deeply spiritual men they foreswear all contact with western currency, and this final stage of the journey has alone cost me three autographed pictures of Consuella’s Pole-Dancers and an old Madonna video.
Still, it’s not as if one can ever put a price on telling heathens they’re going to hell. Even if, as I have already said, his departure will be an awful inconvenience - I’m just proud to have been called to do my bit to help. Of course that doesn’t mean there’s any justification to waste important ministry assets on frivolities like language classes for the boy. Despite Eric’s naïve eagerness to learn the local language, I’ve successfully convinced him there’s no need, since like all foreigners Muslim terrorists are happy to speak English, and can invariably understand if one just speaks loudly enough. We will, however, be packing his bags with some helpful Danish bible tracts which are sure to excite everyone he meets, and to help him fit in better I’ve also arranged for a passport in a more Arabic sounding name: Allah bin B’ush. Well it was that or Salman Rushdie...
I'm Father Christian and I teach the Bible.