Progressive Alternative Writing Exercises: He’s Not Your Type

Standard

“to know thy self is to know chaos and peace in conflict”
-me

Being a man of the cloth means you are absolved of all sins because your soul counts as a lesser in comparison to the many in which you are trained to save. Father Mick Ryan told me that once. Or twice? Well, either way, it is his philosophy. And trust me, he takes it to heart. You see, Father Ryan is passionate about two things in life: bringing souls to the Christian God and alcohol. These are not good bed fellows.
Take last Sunday for instance: he gives the sermon while intoxicated. I am not talking about a little ellibreated where he slurs a word here or there. Not even drunk where his eyes are puffy and bloodshot. I am talking full on hospitalization needed for alcohol poisoning kind of intoxicated. I believe the youth say “blasted!” It was a wonder to watch as he told the story of Noah while referring to him as Job, how he had to brace himself over the podium just to stay off the wooden floor, and how as he said goodbye to the flock he had to on more than one occassion lean over the entrance ledge to release the contents which caused him problems. A poor, pathetic, shameful, demoralizing spectacle he was last Sunday.
I am not sure he will do well tomorrow either. Tonight he invited some hooligans over for a night of poker with wines and spirits. It was a play of faith and hedonism he informed me after I pryed for information. Some guy brought vodka and rum to liven up the event. Yet, another brought some sort of home brew that nearly toppled me from aroma alone. Do not think me a lightweight, because I drank a many under the table in my college days. I thought that was why I was hired to attend this parrish.
I was a rebel in my day, and it results in me knowing how to relate to the youth. I was hip, cool, rad. Today, I guess the word is flamingo or chill? I need to brush up a bit on lingo I think, it changes so often. Anyhow, I am watching over Father Ryan now who has made a nest for himself around the toilet bowl. I am now thinking I was actually hired to sober up Father Ryan.
God, give me strength!

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