Monday, January 28, 2013
And a tall bearded fellow shouted, "I come to you at the turn of the tide!"
A sweaty man in a badly fitting short sleeved white shirt rushed up the long aisle-way to the front of the cathedral. As he ran, huffing and puffing, The alter at the front became visible. The orange box gleamed in a dust-speckled single shaft of sunlight. Reaching the alter, the congregation gasped in suspense. He mopped his brow and re-pocketed the sopping wet handkerchief. Carefully, cautiously, and with all care and gentle dexterity he hovered his fingertips over the edges of the bright orange detergent box. An old man cleared his throat distracting everyone terribly. A moment's pause to refocus himself and with a whip of his wrists the box was turned exactly 179 degrees to reveal the bright letters spelling out "TIDE."
Posted by Ben Brooksby at 3:25 PM