Brian and Janet Longfellow are like any other married couple. They share everyday joys and struggles. They both like going on long walks along the beach. During the long cold days of winter, the two of them snuggle under their electric blanket. When trouble comes knocking at the door, they answer it together and say, “Thank you, we’re not interested.”
However, Brian and Janet are different in one specific way. You see, Brian’s penis became a fundamentalist Christian a few months ago. The penis became a young earth creationist and now believes the world is only 10,000 years old. Dinosaurs are the Devil’s pets.
The couple convinced the penis to attend therapy with them. Unfortunately, the session ended with the penis declaring Janet’s womb to be a workshop for Jesus to make babies.
It was awkward. And in the days following the session, there was an unspoken policy of not speaking about Brian’s penis or its evangelical ways. The penis was quiet, too. Oh, things were cordial in the Longfellow house. But it turned it to be the calm before the storm.
And the storm turned out to be the most dangerous type of storm there is — a fundamentalist penis tornado.
A Day In The Sun
It was a beautiful Sunday in Boston in the middle of January, thanks to global warming. While Australia burned to a crisp and polar bears practiced their breaststroke in what was once icy waters, New England enjoyed a 70-degree sunny day.
Brian and Janet held hands as they walked from their favorite place to brunch, Trident Booksellers, towards the public gardens. They looked like a couple who just started dating. Any signs of wear and tear on their relationship from years of marriage disappeared. They were two people in love.
At first, Brian’s brain refused to acknowledge what his ears were telling it. That far off cry in the wilderness with an all too familiar voice was pushed back into the subconscious. He was in a river, and that river was called DeNile. The only outward sign something was amiss was his grip on Janet’s hand.
“Is something wrong,” she asked. “You’re all sweaty.” She let go and wiped her hand on his Dunkn’ Donuts 4 Evah shirt.
He didn’t answer. Each step brought him — no them — to their destiny. Each step forward forced his mind to refute the ever-growing realization that something was wrong. Part of him wanted to flee. Wasn’t ignorance bliss? But he couldn’t help himself. He had to know.
Janet’s face went from happy to worried to Oh my God; this can’t be happening?
From a block away, they saw. It was Brian’s penis. He was preaching the word of God.
Penis Street Preacher
Street preachers come in all shapes and sizes. Some hear God whispering sweat crazies in their ears and start shouting the Word of God wherever they may be. YouTube is full of faith-based characters wandering the aisles of Walmart screaming “Repent sinners, and by the way, where can I find the air fryers?” These people are salt-of-earth folk. It just so happens they’re probably having a temporal lob seizure with their NaCl.
Brian’s penis wasn’t one of those evangelists. This penis was prepared and brought gear with him. Shouting at strangers, “Turn from your sin! Turn or burn!” at the top of your lungs is an effective way of communicating Christian love. But when Brian’s penis yelled it through a megaphone, the results were simply divine. And just in case a passerby was deaf, the penis brought visual aids — signs. Several of them stood close by proclaiming catchy slogans like It’s not hate speech! It’s love speech! and Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter.
Brian’s face was a canvas of confusion. He tried to take it all in as he stepped closer and closer to his penis. His long-suffering wife grabbed him. She wanted to keep the situation under control. She never signed on for this type of insanity. The vows were for better or worse. They never mentioned dealing with an agitated phallus proclaiming the Second Coming.
He felt the tug on his shirt. Still, he went forward. He felt responsible for his penis. It was making a mess, and Brian Longfellow was going to put a stop to it.
Within seconds, Brian was face-to-head with the penis.
“What are you doing!” Brian shouted.
“I am doing nothing. Jesus’ hands are molding me. His mouth is moving my lips. I am but an instrument of the LORD,” the penis retorted.
“You’re an idiot. Have you even read the Bible?” Brian challenged
“I’ve read the good parts. Jesus tells me what to know.”
“Did Jesus tell you to quote Yoda from The Empire Strikes Back?
Because that Luminous beings we are line is from that movie!”
The Boston Police Department does many jobs. There are traffic stops for running red lights. Sometimes officers visit homes for domestic violence calls. On that sunny January day, a policeman stepped in between Brian and his penis. There was peace being disturbed. And the cop’s job was to restore order.
Brian and the penis looked at each other. They looked at the crowd surrounding them armed with smartphones lifestreaming the incident. And lastly, they peered at Officer Doyle.
The penis took a deep breath. There were Bible verses for these situations. Heck, entire chapters could be utilized for his defense. And what he didn’t remember George Lucas would fill in.
Officer Doyle leveled a steady glare at the penis. “I’ve been doing this beat for twenty years. You’re not the first dick.”
And with that, all the fight left the penis. Just a second ago, he was full of fighting blood, and now he was flaccid.
Brian was about to say something along the lines of “Ha-HA!” when the cop shot him a look. Brian took a few steps back.
Janet took his hand, and the two of them melted into the crowd.
The penis’ last words rang in their ears.
“No man comes to the Father but by the Force!”