I saw yesterday a street prophet. He wore a brown sack-cloth. He held a home-made sign: REPENT! The End Is Near!
Jessie and I, along with the passive involvement of Mark and Emily, watched the 21st century John the Baptist - tall with long, wild grey hair - walk along College Avenue. He then walked into the carpark behind the Brewery. He stood near a vehicle we couldn't yet see. We watched him pull the sack-cloth robes over his head. A startling transformation: from preacher to Gap-clothed hippie. He stowed the warning sign. My fellow patrons on the patio took guesses as to what vehicle the man drove. We were delighted to see him reverse from the space and into view to reveal an orange Jeep Wrangler. "Maybe he needs it to navigate the soon-to-be-wasted terrain?" someone wondered. As we watched the cargo-shorted prophet maneuver his 4x4 into the street, we saw then the cherry to top the narrative: a plush viking hat (replete with concave horns) adorning the Wrangler's dashboard. The patio laughed. The herald of the Lord's pending doom must have heard us. He turned to give us a little grin. "He might accidentally get Rapture'd to Valhalla." "Do you think that he's a Minnesota Vikings fan?" Another of our peanut gallery wondered to whom this man prayed: Odin or Favre?
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