Day 10: Black Sheep

I couldn’t tell if this guy was a preacher or a comedian. He’s up on the church stage (is it called an altar? or is that just for weddings?) joking around about Donald Trump’s hair piece and how fine the women are in Brazil where he did his last missionary tour.

Yeah. Double entendre.

But are the jokes anything more than that? Or is he just a clown with a white collar? I can see why his wife would have her suspicions. He wasn’t a bad looking guy for a preacher. And he sure as hell had charisma. Even the older ladies in the pew next to me were giggling. Not a single “Well I never.”

After the service, I found him mingling with the churchgoers. Was never one for church myself. I don’t need to be reminded about how much sin is out there.

I made my way through the throngs of supposedly pious types (more than a few of whom were attractive women) to shake the preacher’s hand. It was firm and smooth and he held on just a little too long. Or maybe it was my imagination. I needed to stay objective.

“New to our flock?” he asked. “We welcome black sheep.” Would it be cliche if I said he was smiling wolfishly?

“I’m not sure what you mean by black sheep,” I said, feigning ignorance at his little joke about my race among so many “white sheep.” “But I enjoyed the service,” I continued, trying to mirror his smile. “My name is Jasika.”

“Phillip Jasper. Wonderful to meet you. What brings you to our humble church this fine morning?”

Jasper’s groupies were dispersing. I moved a little closer.

“I’m not a churchgoer,” I said, “but I have a friend in Brazil who told me to stop by.”

He flushed, but he didn’t change the subject.

“I’ve got quite a few patrons to speak with just now. Perhaps we could meet later on?”

“Later would be perfect. It’s too early for me.” I gave him my card–a different one than my P.I. card, of course.

“I’m more of a night owl myself, despite all this.” He took my card and smiled that same smile. “I’ll give you a call later on, then.”

“Till then.”

I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not looking to “entrap” him, so to speak. Merely to get an interview away from the judging eyes of hanged men with thorny crowns.



Today’s categories were, “A private investigator,” “A sinful preacher,” and “A stand-up comedian.”

Not much to say about this one except I love P.I. stories. Maybe I’ll write more about Jasika (pronounced Jah-seek-ah) in the future. Cheers!

– H.

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