Some simian fop not satisfied
with basic hygiene and serviceable coverings,
hung a lion’s tooth around his neck and
the hunt for lions—for their chic teeth—was on.
When peak lion was reached, that same party,
or perhaps a disciple—
anthropologists are divided—
found a bright stone, bound it
to the glabella of a bleached skull,
placed ox-eye daisies in the eye-sockets
and lashed it above his lintel.
The skull market, which had been bearish,
erupted, and the great Skull War—later
reckoned as God’s wrath—broke out over the land.
And that would have spelled the end
if not for the Calabrian with the club foot
whose sudden appearance acutely focused
the collective rage, and for the sake of all,
was lynched, whereupon peace
magically descended over the proto-humans
who thereafter assembled weekly
to remember Cliff-the-club-foot
and sing praise.
Some millennia later, in a mega-church lobby,
where congregants gather to measure themselves,
talk was heating up over the money spent
on the new youth wing. Every Sunday
promised more froth and foment.
So when Gerald, with his wife Sal, furtively
requested a first-Sunday complimentary latte,
for the third Sunday in a row, and
the security cams were recording
and the video consequently dispatched to
the Wednesday evening prayer meeting, and there,
soberly, gravely and prayerfully viewed
by the core faithful and the 20-staff pastorate,
the Lord spoke quite clearly that
Gerald, (henceforth remembered
as Gerald-the-visitor), with his wife Sal,
must be banished.
The Casting-out ceremony w/ sermon
was conducted the following Sunday morning,
immediately after announcements,
prior to the collection.