There is a new contest in town and it's a fun one!
Write a paragraph or two using the following random words:
Write a paragraph or two using the following random words:
Preacher, tick, toothless, feet
Entries may be poetry, prose, fiction, essays or interviews. (or any other form of creatively written expression.) Just be funny. And give your piece a TITLE.
Entries may be poetry, prose, fiction, essays or interviews. (or any other form of creatively written expression.) Just be funny. And give your piece a TITLE.
The winner will be announced on February 2nd and will be awarded a
Calvinistic Cartoons Excellence in Random Word Writing Award.
(it's a certificate not unlike the other for captions...only different...but with your name plastered on the front)
If this goes well, I will reward myself with a visit to IHOP -
(the International House of Prayer).
Not an entry into the competition, but just a comment regarding your formatting. For those readers who subscribe via RSS, our background is white and we therefore cannot read most of your posts as you select a plethora of colours, many very light.
ReplyDeleteThis has meant that although I subscribe, I very rarely am able to read your posts, as I don't always have the time to click through to read them at your site.
I had no idea...I will try to correct that. Thanks for letting me know...(I am still a noobie when it comes to blog-work)
ReplyDeleteSnow White and the Seven Preachers, a reformed retelling of a classic fairy tale
ReplyDeleteOnce upon a time there was a beautiful lady sitting by a window, and watching the little hand of a great grandfather clock tick off the minutes, sharp as a needle. After awhile, she stood up and yawned. "Now that can't be right", she said, pausing in the middle of her extenuations. "The clock says 6:29 and it must be 6:30." So she darted in between the swings of the pendulum, and reached up to adjust the minute hand, pricking her little finger. The face of the clock was white as snowflakes, and the minute hand, black as coal: her blood on the minute hand was as red as her own blood. "Ooooh," she breathed tremulously. "Let me have a daughter, and let her lips be as black as the minute hand, and her skin be as red as the . . . no, that isn't right. Let her lips be as white as the . . . but the minute hand is black. Let her have eyes as red as . . but that would make her a werewolf . . . Highness, Honey," she called to her husband. Could you please come in here and help me remember what it is that I'm supposed to say?"
Her husband entered, carrying the first volume of Turretin. "Yes, my dear?" he asked, archly. He had just been retrieving several theologians from under the bed, and he knew he hadn't put them there.
"I never can remember the orthodox version of this fairy tale. What is it that I'm supposed to say next?"
Her husband cleared his throat. He opened his mouth to speak. Nothing. He looked down at his fingernails. hmmmph. He contemplated his foot. That wasn't it. He closed his eyes and muttered something into the air. But no.
"We'd better have in the preachers".
A servant hit a gong in the corner.
BWANGGGG
'The Seven', so ordinated by their uncanny resemblance to vigilantes in a classic Western, entered.
Her highness explained the dilemma. "Perhaps it doesn't matter: I mean . . . at some point it's all going to make her horribly hateful to a toothless old hag . . . But you see, somewhere at the end of the story there's a happily ever after with a prince . . ."
The seven blinked.
"We didn't exactly . . ." one of them stuttered. "We aren't familiar with this sort of . . . We didn't study -"
"Black but comely?" another suggested. A third shook his head. "One moment, your Highnesses". The seven went into a huddle of broadcloth. Was this an allegorical or a literal fairy tale? Should it be approached primarily as a narrative, or as a system of timeless truths? Was the little girl going to be baptised? Had the fairy tale been redacted? Could they avoid the slippery slopes of antinomianism and legalism by positing a third use of the law? At last they turned round, beaming.
"We have it."
"Her name will be called 'Snow White'." The one looking like Charles Bronson said. "Though her sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow."
Oh, said her mother. I think you're right. There was something about that, to do with a rescue by the prince.
"The Spirit of Ixodoidea Cast Out":
ReplyDeleteA Limerick
There once was a flocculent creature
who passed himself off as a preacher
His pileous foot
Abutted a root
And a tick was cast out of
His feature.
I love to visit IHOP and take a nap on the little prayer rugs.
A Cautionary Tale of the Dangers of Technology
ReplyDeleteThere once was a little white church in the woods in the middle of nowhere. It was a simple little place with plain wooden pews, an old organ, an out-of-tune piano, and a little congregation who loved it that way. Everyone from baby Joey Snodgrass to old, toothless Grandma Potter was content and happy with their simple way of meeting. But one day, a stranger came into town. He was in the area for hunting season and visited the little church one Sunday. At first the little congregation was thrilled to have a visitor but he had a more secret and dastardly purpose. He was a salesman - a salesman who specialized in a slick Powerpoint church computer system. This salesman would hunt deer during the day and come to the meetings of the little church to weasel his way in. After two weeks of schmoozing, he conned the little church into buying a big-time computer system. Afterwards, the preacher confessed, “I don't know what hit me. It was like we were all bit by the technology bug.” So, the salesman brought in his computer specialists. These experts looked no older than a bunch of high school kids and they acted like them, too. They would go in the woods, play paint ball all day, come back to the little church with muddy feet, and work all night. When they were done, they handed their big bill and thick user's manual to the preacher and left town.
It was then the trouble began. The members of the little church couldn't figure out what to do with this new system. Most of the time the big screen was a sinister blue color with words that said something about “fatal system error”. This frightened some of the older members. What did those words of warning mean? What was worse, the members of the little church began to get ill one by one. The symptoms were fever, chills, strange rashes. What was this epidemic? Was this the judgment of God for their lust for technology?
Finally the local doctor gave the diagnosis. For some reason, the entire church came down with Lyme disease. How that happened, nobody knows but many took it as a divine reprimand. It took weeks for everyone to get well and it was touch-and-go for some of the older folks. After everyone was better, they packed up the fancy-schmancy Powerpoint system, sold it on Ebay, and returned to the old organ and the out-of-tune piano having learned their lesson.
What is the moral of the story, you ask?
Beware of geeks bearing ticks.
That was scary Pilgrim Mommy. I, a dog, screamed.
ReplyDeleteI forgot to mention that the Spirit was toothless. That was why it was so easily cast out. No grip.
I tried changing the colors on this but, it seems to be "locked down" so here is a re-statement of the contest for those who view this in RSS:
ReplyDeleteThere is a new contest in town and it's a fun one!
Write a paragraph or two using the following random words:
Preacher, tick, toothless, feet
Entries may be poetry, prose, fiction, essays or interviews. (or any other form of creatively written expression.) Just be funny. And give your piece a TITLE.
The winner will be announced on February 2nd and will be awarded a
Calvinistic Cartoons Outstanding Achievement in Random Word Writing Award.
(it's a certificate not unlike the other for captions...only different...but with your name plastered on the front)
If this goes well, I will reward myself with a visit to IHOP -
(the International House of Prayer).