by Pastor Pasqual in space #26, bless the Lord

Oh, my, what a potential flock for the Lord I've found here in this humble trailer park. My name is Pastor Pasqual, and I just moved into space #26, right next door to the Dorque family, bless their hearts and souls.

I finally dragged myself into the 21st Century in August because there weren't no religious holidays that month to otherwise keep me occupied. Ah, idle hands are the devil's playground, are they not? And Pastor is only human. So I got me the Internet.

I started out by looking up words I'd heard before, but didn't know what they meant. When I got to the word 'fetishist' I somehow lost two weeks clicking on links and seeing images straight from the stinky bowels of Hell.

That's when I seen the light and realized looking up words is sinful, because it counts as learning and learning is sinful. If you don't believe me, read the Book of Genesis, especially the part about what happens to folks who "eat the fruit of the tree of knowledge." It weren't fornication what got Adam and Eve pitched out of Eden, it was booklearnin'.

So, I prayed and asked the Lord what He wanted me to do with the Internet. And Jesus come to me in a dream, dressed just like them terrorist fellers we see all over the evening news, and He told me to use the powers of the Internet to do God's work. I had no idea what in tar-nation Jesus was talking about or why He was all dressed up as a terrorist. So I just started using Yahoo People Search and looking up my old disciples.

I found one of them listed as living in space #73 at Tinbox Acres Trailer Park. So I came here looking for Anil Roberts, only to discover he went to be with the Lord on the Fourth of July, beating me there, by God. So I bought that trailer in space #26, and moved in. I was hoping to kick it with Anil for a while, being that I just got released from five years in rehab.

I used to be addicted to crack. That's right. The man you see walking around in robe-like garments and blessing everyone in a all-knowing way used to ignite and inhale toxic substances that would turn me into a outright DEMON. Then I was ministered by Pastor Grant over at the rehab center.

When I got checked into that rehab center against my will in a straitjacket, all buckwild crazy and frothing at the mouth and detoxing, Pastor Grant just grabbed me and loved all over me. That's right. And after a while I finally quit bucking and squirming and convulsing and just went limp. It was at that moment I put my whole life in Jesus' hands, right there in that rubber room with Pastor Grant's arms around me in that straitjacket.

After I'd fully detoxed and gathered my wits about me, I just opened up my life and my heart to Pastor Grant and the glorious Word he was spreading. Eventually, I graduated on up the ladder, through minister and reverend and on up through the ranks, up until I became the black-belt Pastor you see before you today.

Following in the everlasting glory and gospel of Pastor Grant, I, too have set out to gather my own flock, much like a shepherd and his sheep, only with people. Sheeple, if you will. Won't you join the flock of Pastor Pasqual's sheeple? It could be your ticket to Heaven someday.

Why, I remember when I first met Anil Roberts back at the rehab center. I just grabbed that skinny little straitjacketed speedfreak and loved all over him, just like Pastor Grant done to me six months prior. Finally, Anil went limp and he opened his heart wide to Jesus. If Anil's mind weren't completely gone right then, it would have opened up for Jesus, too.

Eventually, Anil was running around from room to room, passing out religious brochures to all the other rehab inmates. Was Anil still skinny when he passed away? Was he still handing out religious brochures? Praise the Lord, I'll bet he was, and he's probably passing those brochures out to all the other Angels up there in Heaven with him right now.

I want each and every one of my new neighbors here in the trailer park to do something for me. And for your fallen comrade, Anil Roberts. When you meet someone for the first time, give 'em a big hug. Just grab that person and love all over 'em. It don't have to be anyone you're formally introduced to, neither. It can be the person standing in front of you in line at the grocery store. Or the person behind you. Or at the DMV.

Go on, now, grab that cop who just pulled you over for DUI and give him a great big bear hug. Put your face as close to his as you can, and tell him how much you love him, and how much Jesus loves him too, praise the Lord. Nobody loves cops, so that would certainly be a glorious surprise! And it might even make the difference between you getting to drive away, and your riding away cuffed in the backseat cage of a police cruiser.

My personal mission on Earth is to train drunks and speedfreaks and village idiots and whatnot to walk with the Lord and preach His praises. Then I turn them loose on society to spread the Word as raving religious lunatics.

Unlike other rehab reverends, I do not simply bathe my sheeple in the light of the Lord and then turn them loose willy-nilly on society to make idiots of themselves.  I carefully match them up with one another first.  

For instance, I'll pair up some lunatic who talks to himself with a chronic obsessive laugher. Then neither one of them looks too stupid walking around; just one guy talking and the other guy laughing at what he's saying. Look too stupid, and you put people off. Put people off, and you can't bathe them in the light of the Lord. Put them off enough and they won't even let you wash their feet. Disciples of Pastor Pasqual are thoroughly trained in the fine art of getting a foot in the door.

It's not that difficult to get people to listen to you talk incessantly about religion. All you have to do is use a smooth enough voice, and most trailerpark inhabitants will go blank and let you talk and not tell you to get the fuck off their porch. That's right. Lord loves a simpleton. Otherwise, no one would, except maybe other simpletons.

Yes, the wonderful thing about God is, God's a wonderful thing. His head is made out of rubber, and His tail is made out of springs. He's bouncy, bouncy, bouncy, bouncy, fun-fun-fun-fun-fun. Oh, the wonderful thing about God is, He's the only one!

Let all of us, God's sheeple, gather down by the duckpond next Saturday noon. We'll just walk and talk and pray, going from trailer to trailer, gathering a larger and larger flock until we qualify as a mob, spreading the Word of God Almighty until we reach the highway. We shall bask in the Lord's glory and sing His praises as we walk and pray. But we hafta pray with our eyes open so we don't walk out in front of a speeding truck, or fall in a hole or a moat or a blowed-up septic tank. Amen.

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