The Reverend, Bobby Jackson sat in front of his dressing room mirror while a pretty, young, cosmetologist tried to tame a stubborn tuft of hair sticking out of his pompadour. He was convinced that she was tryin´ to seduce him, `cause she kept leanin´ in close, and her pretty breast kept touchin´ his shoulder.
At the moment, it was more of an annoying distraction than a pleasure. He needed to be at his pulpit in front of the cameras for his weekly telecast, usin´ all his concentration on the delivery of his sermon, in five more minutes.
He supposed, that the devil must tempt him more than most men, because he had been in the business of savin´ the souls of ignorant men and women for more than forty years. He closed his eyes for a moment, and prayed for strength. He was tempted , to just tell her, to cut the damned thing off, but he was afraid she might make the mistake of thinkin´ he was talkin´ about his penis. Well, that thought gave him a chuckle!
He believed, with out a doubt, that he was among the favored of men of God, for his long devotion to the Lord. He received sacks of mail from his T.V. listeners weekly, telling him what a good man he was, and sayin´ how much they admired him and sendin´ five dollar bills and bigger. He had come to believe, that he was, truly, God´s chosen, and suspected that, in fact, he was the long awaited Messiah, although God had never told him as much, because he wanted him to remain a humble man.
He wished God was a little more conversant with him than he was. Sometimes, God gave him little enough guidance. His wife was currently out of town, visiting their grandchildren in Memphis. He wanted God to tell him what to do about her. She had become a priggish woman as she had grown older, and he thought it was rather unbecoming. Even though she fawned on him, he found her most unsatisfactory. Divorce was out of the question. How would that look to the congregation? And then, there was the matter of money. He had amassed a fortune doin´ God´s work, and how do you divide up the church he had built? Women to the left and men to the right? It was clearly impossible. If he only had the courage to slip a little arsenic in her orange juice, but that was surely the devil talkin´. If God intended for him to bear the burden of her, then he would have to bend to God´s will. Honestly, lately, it seemed like, every direction he turned, the devil was temptin´ him to commit another sin.
Take this invitation to some party he had found on his breakfast table this mornin´. His body guards had told him it was delivered by some, flea ridden, stinkin´ bum, who had, somehow, managed to get inside the compound. They had tossed him out on his mangy ear. This was, surely, a note from the devil himself, proclaimin´ to be the opposite. He was a sneaky bastard, invitin´ him to take part in, God knows what, debauchery.
Well, he´d certainly pass on that one, and stay right here, enjoyin´ the pretty cosmetologist. What was her name? God was certainly generous in offering her to him. He must be mighty pleased with the work he´d been doin´ spreadin´ the Lord´s word. His love for him was, truly, a wonder!
“I think I´ve got it,” the young woman said. “I´m pretty sure that wild hair will stay down now. Thank God for Pomade!”
“Good. It´s time for me to go lead the worship. Be sure to be here when I get back to help me get this make-up off. It makes me fell, downright, sissified wearin´ it.” He said.
“I´ll be right here, at your service!” she replied cheerfully.
“That´s what I like to hear!,” he grinned at her. “Yep,” he thought. “she definitely wants me. I wonder if she goes for rough sex? I could teach her a lot. Pointin´ out her wickedness, could, very well, save her from damnation!”