I was walking toward my local metro (subway) and saw a Priest enter the metro, who was mumbling and nodding to himself as he flowed down the escalator. I decided to follow him and see where the lord and a priest would go on a Sunday night. So I tapped him on his shoulder and asked where he has been on a rainy Sunday night, he started to giggle and whisper in some language that is a mixture of Greek and peanutbutter-stuck-on-teethisholaninin. I started to tell him in pig Latin my troubles and dreams….. and what I did Saturday night…. he smiled, began to make a disappointing warning followed by a giggle, then he started to make colorful mimming how, I think, to something better for next Saturday night. My stop came, I waved goodbye, handed him a 40 and wondered where he was going….. maybe to Obama’s house, or maybe he was just going home to cry….. or maybe,….. just maybe, he was going to work to make biscuits for Popeye’s chicken…….. they are heavenly
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