Hark!

Congregation before me. Brother Reed, Sister Callista, thank you for joining us this evening,

for what is a very, very special celebration of the story, so special that we've laid out only the most sacred of our anointing greases.

Today we will bathe in them. Our spirits will be freshened up

and cleaned like a dirty yellow 1993 Dodge neon. It Henderson's perfect touch car wash. The only

car wash approved by the Church of the story. But today we're not celebrating that yellow dodge neon.

No, we are celebrating the return of a dear friend,

a dear man, a dear congregant,

who has spent over a decade in undercover service to the story.

Cardinal Ed Larson.

Brother Reed, might you introduce our glorious psalm?

Thank you, Pastor Andrew.

May we open the book, and may our voices ring true the one word of the story.

Let us work together in word of the story.

Let us work together in service for the story.

Let us work together, not unlike the gears of a 1994 teal, Oldsmobile, Cutlass Sierra.

May our minds be lubricated, like the reliable all-weather engine protection of a cord of Texaco, Super One synthetic engine oil. May our hearts be hard, but forgiving, like the bucket seats of a

1997 cherry-red Pontiac Grand Am. And might we cradle our hearts, not unlike how

a car seat protects a gooey tot as his deranged father does 90 in a school zone? Sister Callista,

I invite you to read us a psal.

I got in a fender bender with a coroner. The cops took my license. So I did what came natural.

I put bee larvae in a syringe, injected it, like a young Lou Reed. For months, I ate nothing

...