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Saint Bristow & The Rag of Righteousness #Employed...Sorta

1:1

Dear Mom and Dad,

You who have waited many moons for updates,

I bring glad tidings:

Thy son hath acquired… a job.


1:2

Now I had been partaking in the ministry of free breakfasts,

daily receiving beans not fried by my own hand,

and toast delivered without toil.


1:3

And on the seventh day (or maybe it was Tuesday),

a volunteer did begin to stack chairs.


1:4

Moved by curiosity (and maybe guilt),

I saith unto her, “Do you always do this alone?”

She nodded.

And so I joined her in the Great Stacking.


1:5

Then came Johana, high priestess of the Multi-Purpose Room,

wielding in her left hand a spray bottle,

and in her right, a rag of righteousness.


1:6

She looked upon me and saw that I was idle no longer.

So she bestowed unto me both tools and said,

“Go ye therefore, and wipe down the chairs.”

And so I went forth in the Great Unstacking.



1:7

So I sprayed with fervor.

I wiped like one possessed.

I cleansed all 40 chairs of their mysterious stickiness.


1:8

Then Johana returned and spake,

“Now, find the largest broom in the land.”


1:9

So I did journey into the back room,

and lo, I found it,

a broom with bristles wide enough to part the Red Sea of crumbs.


1:10

Together we swept the entire floor,

banishing dust mites and ancient tortilla chips

into the outer darkness (i.e., the bin).



1:11

But still Johana was not done.

She looked upon the clean floor and said,

“We also mop.”


1:12

And behold, a mop was placed in my hand.

And with holy conviction,

I baptized the tiles in lavender-scented justice.



1:13

Then Johana saith,

“This is your job now. You work here.”


1:14

And I replied, “Wait… what?”

But there was no turning back.


1:15

And thus I was employed

not by résumé, nor interview,

but by showing up,

stacking chairs,

and saying yes.


1:16

Lo, there are also spam sandwiches,

and whispers of leftovers that may yet be sent home in plastic wrap.


1:17

So worry not, for I labor among kind folk,

with high hopes and clean floors.


Without pay...but

With love, gratitude and mild confusion,


Your son,