Bad Spell
Once upon a time, a zealous Cockroach skittered up to an I-phone
and scritched out this email to some secular Soldiers:
Hay you
luzrz!!!!!!! Stop makin trubble 4 us holy folk!
Whats
this bout seprashun uv church & state? There aint no seprashun uv church &
state; I kno cuz I reddit on teh Internets. Me and any other theocrat agrees that
sum kinda Lord oughta run teh gummint; which spissific Lord we’ll figger out
later, mine uv corse haha.
So fork
U 4 blockin churchs power 2 forse relijus indoktrinashun on sojers. Also 2 grab
summa them $weet gummint $ub$ideez 4 travelin & caterin & consultin &
whatnot. Whats relijun 4 but 2 get stuff 4 free?
’Sides,
MY Lord reely IS teh 1 troo Lord uv sojers. That’s cuz war is Hell, & He is
Lord uv Hell.
So U betta
stop yur lawsoots or else my luvin Lord, in His holy h8, will send U 2 teh
Other Place, 2 freez on icy cloud-tops & wear lame-o robes, sandulls & halos
& strum on untoond harps & sing kiss-ass jive 2 that commie hippy peacenik
do-gooder kike & all his spic cunt faggot beggar nigger saints, 4EVA &
EVA & EVA. Meenwile me & my best frenemies will be down deep, toasty warm,
throwin a PARTEEE!
HALE
SEITAN!
The Cockroach clicked ‘send’, and scurried down the
table-leg to the floor; but before he reached safety, a Human stepped on him.
His indestructible cockroach soul instantly teleported to the
throne-room of Hell. He chittered, “Lord, I did it! I sent the email you asked!
To those troublemaking secular soldiers! Didn’t I do good?”
Satan closed his eyes, accessed files, then said, “Ah, yes,
that email.” He opened his eyes. “No,
vermin, you did not ‘do good’.”
“W-what did I do wrong?”
Satan said, “Take the first three words. Only two were misspelled! Why not all three?
You failed to use a capital U for y-o-u!”
“I forgot! I’m
sorry, I’m sorry!”
“Don’t grovel!”
Satan raged. “You know I don’t like
groveling! And what’s with those multiple exclamation points? Only seven? Didn’t I directly
order you to use thirteen?”
“B-but the main text, Lord! Its smugness, illogic, greed
and hate!”
“Barely
adequate,” Satan said, teeth gritted. “And you flirt with honesty! Which is against Company policy! And worst
of all…”
“…yes?”
“The ending. Hale Seitan. H-A-L-E! S-E-I-T-A-N! What, am I healthy wheat gluten?”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
“You cringing idiot!”
Satan rose from his throne and pointed his left arm straight at the former
Cockroach. His fist was clenched, his middle finger extended. He intoned, “For
your incompetence, I hereby devolve you to an
even lower life form!”
He shot a lightning bolt out of his middle finger: ZOTZ!
The former Cockroach groaned and said, “Where am I? What am
I?” He looked down and saw two arms, two legs, a business suit and Guccis. He
looked around and saw studio lights, TV cameras, choir and audience. A banner
on the wall read Dominion Gospel Hour.
He looked at his hands; his right hand held a microphone, and his left wrist
bore an oversized gold-plated diamond-studded wristwatch.
The former Cockroach wailed, “Oh no! I’m a Televangelist!”
Moral: Haters will
prate.
Comment: This
Underfable emphasizes the importance of correct spelling. It is dedicated to
Bonnie and Mikey Weinstein, founders of the Military Religious Freedom
Foundation, discoverers of a nest of Dominionist theocrats in America’s armed
forces. They are true heroes of the Republic, if only for reading through hate
mail spelled even worse than what’s here.
The Cockroach was twice almost honest, in the last
sentences of the second and third paragraphs of his email. I leave evaluating
the fourth paragraph to theologians and soldiers. His threat of Heaven is as
convincing, and in a similar spirit, as a televangelist’s threat of Hell. His
cascade of vile slurs climaxes with ‘saints’.
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