Mother Eternal Ann Everlastin's Dead

by Pat G'Orge-Walker

Genres: African American; African American Christian; African American Women's Fiction

Synopsis

When her good friend Mother Eternal Ann Everlastin' dies, Sister Betty, along with her half-blind cohort, must see to Eternal's last wishes, which involves dispensing large sums of money to three church pastors and keeping some greedy religious zealots at bay, while learning a valuable lesson in faith. 25,000 first printing.

Release date: July 1, 2004

Publisher: Kensington

Print pages: 320

Sample

Sunday afternoons in the small, gossip-driven town of Pelzer, South Carolina, were always an event within the numerouschurch circles. Folks got all dressed up in everything from pleats to cleats and made it to service. It had nothing to do with their religion. They just couldn’t waste precious time on proper attire. They didn’t want to wait to see who got dissed, or who had backslid since the past Sunday. Instead of greeting one another with “Praise the Lord,” it was usually, “Chile, did you hear about so and so?” It didn’t matter whether a racing fire truck was on its way to a raging fire or an exhausted mother in back-breaking pain was about to give birth. The response would always be, “Hold on. Let me stop what I’m doing so I can hear everything you got to say.”

What was about to occur happened at the beginning of the fall season, and this Sunday afternoon shouldn’t have been any different from others. The weather was still warm yet comfortable with many of the assorted petunias, jasminesand rosebushes on the corner of Shameless Avenue boasting brilliant colors despite their time for blooming being way past due. They, like most things in Pelzer, held on to their bright hues just to be stubborn and to see what would happen next.

Above a street that crossed Shameless Avenue named Last Exit Avenue, several white, rhythm-challenged pigeons fluttered their wings to the pulsating musical beats carried through the air from the radio-pumped music of Kirk Franklin, Mary Mary, Al Green and the Isley Brothers as the birds gathered on the telephone wires above the No Hope Now—Mercy Neva Church. In this neighborhood, the white birds were called pigeons. If they’d been fluttering and cooing,on the other side of town where the rich folks lived, they’d have been called doves.

The church played its music loud with a heavy emphasis on ear-splitting bass levels in desperation to attract more young people to Sunday services. Their only organist, thirty-year-oldBrother Juan Derr, was barely five feet tall, cocky, with freckles that made him resemble a speckled barnyard rooster or the Howdy Doody puppet. He had short legs and flat feet. His flat feet looked like a pair of CDs dangling from his ankle. Juan Derr even pecked at the keys, with his head bobbing and no thought to musical rhythm. He was just like a rooster pecking at wiggly worms. He just kept stabbing at the keys hoping that he’d hit the right ones.

But the church kept him anyway even though he only knew how to play two songs, which he musically butchered every Sunday. Those songs were, “Stretch Out” and “Kumbaya,”which were apparently two of the pigeons’ favorites since they cooed and pranced on the telephone wires like they had mad cow disease whenever he played them.

That day, the pigeons flapped their wings and cooed loudly as if they were mocking the human that entered the small storefront church building below.

The building was once an open-all-night bodega owned by the late Mr. Pepe DuYuNo De Way to San Jose, and it still had the twice-shot-up, bulletproof, Plexiglas protection panel, which was streaked with patches of gray duct tape, covering the front.

The No Hope Now—Mercy Neva Church was pastored by the Righteous (in his own mind) Reverend Bling Moe Bling. The small church had a congregation of about seventy-fivemembers. They were mostly related to one another through marriage with the exception of about five or six. Those five or six were the praying pillars. They were the ones who tried to keep the church spiritually afloat with their buoys of morality. They kept their tongues coated with praises and their lives a living testimony to their belief in God. They also happened to be the ones who were out of town at a missionary conference, that day, in nearby Williamston, South Carolina. With the church’s spiritual parachutes absent,there was certain to be a free-for-all and a free fall on the horizon.

When Reverend Bling Moe Bling first founded his church, it had chipped wood-paneled walls and a worn-out yellow linoleum floor. He was doing so bad, he had to beg for and then borrow a couple of members from a nearby mission to use until he got on his feet and could convince others to join. Now, three years later, he’d made some progress. The church’s chipped wood-paneled walls had been replaced with new matching brown-paneled walls and floor. It stood just five blocks away from the Ain’t Nobody Else Right But Us—All Others Goin’ to Hell Church. The five-block distance and the fact that they were both located in Pelzer was the only thing that the two churches thought they had in common. They actually had a lot more. Just like in the biblical cities of Sodom and Gomorrah, there were not ten people combined from both churches living a righteous life.

This particular morning two short but burly, thirty-five-year-old twin deacons named Luke and Warm Waters arrivedat the No Hope Now—Mercy Neva Church in matching yellow Volkswagens with custom-made sunroof tops. Originally,the cars didn’t have sunroofs. The holes were made from the angry swings of axes wielded by the twin sisters they dated, named Shay Nay Nay and Alizé, who still had a lot of vicious “home girl” traits. Those ruthless sisters had caught those shifty deacons laying unsupervised hands on a couple of female members. It appeared to be done in a nonspiritual manner and besides that, it was done in the parking lot after church service. No amount of praying, crying or threats of exorcisms from Luke and Warm could’ve stopped those women from remodeling the deacons’ cars.

Deacons Luke and Warm were also the single, wanna-be playboy stepsons of Reverend Bling Moe Bling and the sons of his wife, First Lady Beulah Bling.

They drove up to the church that Sunday morning, and Deacon Luke was the first one to step from his car. “Ah. It’s just another day that the Lord hath made, and I’m glad I made it to the church still looking as fine as I wanna be.” He chuckled at his own testimony and walked with a proud gait. He favored wearing a gray Fedora and when he wore it, he’d move his head, slowly from side to side. He thought it made him look like a killer-diller ladies’ man. What it made him look like was one of those bobble-head toys that folks love to place in their back car window. He also wore his Fedora to cover his ever-widening bald spot, which from a distance, without the hat, looked like a muddy desert pool.

Deacon Luke was older than his twin brother, Deacon Warm, by almost five minutes. He would’ve been older by only two minutes but someone started gossiping in the deliveryroom. In order to listen, his mama, Sister Beulah, clamped her knees together tightly and blanked out an on-coming hard, stomach-crunching contraction; one that would’ve killed any other woman or at the very least made having any more babies out of the question. “Hold on,” she said, grimacing. “What did you say?” She was so determined to hear any little bit of gossip, she even stopped her own anesthesia drip to hear, clearly, what was going on. Instead of pushing, she started screaming, “You have got to be kidding. Please repeat that again—” And then, she screamed for real. Wasn’t no woman that pain tolerant. It could also be the reason why her boys had all sorts of issues from the incubator on.

Showing off, Deacon Warm parked his car that Sunday with just one stubby pinky turning the steering wheel. He exited his car and followed a few feet behind his brother, Luke. Unlike Luke’s egotistical walk, Warm’s gait and control were a bit unsteady when he wasn’t driving. He looked like a drunk trying to play a game of hopscotch as he fought gravityto remain upright. Deacon Warm also liked to wear red baseball caps. He wore a red cap regardless of what the rest of his outfit looked like or the occasion. He always said, “When the roll is called up yonder, the Lord will know me by my red baseball cap.”

“Not by your works?” Deacon Luke would always ask while laughing.

“Nope. He’ll know me by my red cap!” Deacon Warm didn’t like his twin teasing him about something that meant so much to him.

“Well you’d better hope that ole Saint Peter ain’t on fashionpolice duty,” Deacon Luke teased, “ ’cause you won’t get in.”

Actually, if Heaven did a background check, neither stood a chance of entering.

Deacon Warm ignored his brother because he couldn’t think fast enough to say something witty or insulting back at him. Sometimes his brain was slower than a crippled tree sloth who had one paw tied behind his back.

On some Sundays, the twin deacons also served as both security guards and ushers. This day they would act as church security. They approached the church and stood inside the doorway. They were fitted, snuggly, side by side. Every time they moved to let someone enter, they looked like swinging doors. Armed with wide metal, paddled-shaped sensor wands, they scanned each person before permitting them to enter the church. Sometimes, if they were bored, they’d challenge someone.

“You can’t wear that see-through halter top inside this church,” Deacon Luke snapped with mock indignation while ogling a very well-built young lady whom he’d never seen before at the church but had definitely seen at the after-hours Beddy Bye club on a few Saturday nights. That’s when he did his bimonthly backsliding. He continued salivating. “Unlike some other places that you may service,”—he paused to let his insinuation sink in before he continued—“at this service, we have a dress code.”

Evidently, she wasn’t smart enough to know that he’d called her a whore because he remained alive.

“That’s right,” Deacon Warm chimed in. He winked at his brother as he set his sensor scanner to sensitive. “Today is a church anniversary. The Mothers Board Anniversary to be exact. Everyone is supposed to wear white.” The fact that neither he nor his brother was wearing white never entered his mind, or he just didn’t care about hypocrisy. He moved in and started to scan the young lady from top to bottom, startingat her mousse-layered deep-brown French rolled hair, which contrasted perfectly against her taupe-colored complexion.He tried to outstare her but could not, so he taunted her instead, “Next time you make sure that it’s a white halter top.”

They weren’t doing anything slick. The young lady really liked the attention. “Well, I didn’t know that.” She smirked, pretending indignation as she looked Deacon Luke straight in the eye, trying to remember where she’d seen the short, box-shaped man before. “I guess I’ll have to miss this Sundayservice,” she said as she slowly turned around, giving them a peek at what they’d be missing.

The deacons weren’t expecting her to leave. “Hold up! No need to be hasty. We all God’s children,” Deacon Luke whispered as he watched his brother slowly proceed with his wanton scanning. “We gonna let you slide this time.” He was about to ask for her name and phone number so they could further discuss the church’s dress code but the sound of a honking horn playing a slow version of “We’re in the Money” caught his attention.

The honking horn was coming from a 2003 Rolls Royce limousine that had just turned the corner. It came around the corner, onto Last Exit Avenue, popping a wheelie with hydraulicsthat made it go up and down. Its horn was now blasting a hip-hop version of the melody to “We’re in the Money.”

The limo was beyond the stretch type; it was closer to the size of a small yacht. A blinding glare caused by the black-on-blackwaxed finish sent several pedestrians reaching for sunglasses as it came to a screeching halt. It took up the entirespace reserved for buses. There was no mistaking its ownership. The silver-trimmed, double-braided-edged licenseplate read DISBME. It belonged to the one and only black widow queen herself, Mother Eternal Ann Everlastin’.

Mother Eternal Ann Everlastin’ was the very rich widow of three wealthy church deacons. She was childless, and the only living relative known to her was a drunken nephew named Buddy; it was short for his late mother’s favorite beer, Budweiser. She drank it every day, on the hour like she had stock in the company. He, on the other hand, favored Jack Daniel’s. He drank the liquor constantly and would caressthe bottle like it was his only friend.

Deacon Myzer was Mother Eternal Ann Everlastin’s first husband, a tall handsome man who kept a constant smile on his clean-shaven face. Deacon Myzer was a James Earl Jones look-alike who’d inherited his considerable wealth from his father, Senator Dan Myzer.

Deacon Myzer, while in his youth, had once climbed the snow-capped mountains of Kilimanjaro. A year after he’d married Eternal Ann, he died suddenly at the age of forty after they went on a weeklong camping trip in the Rocky Mountains. She told the authorities that he had slipped on a slippery chocolate mint patty wrapper.

Her second husband, Deacon Phil T. Luker, whose body had been discovered in a bear’s cave, half eaten and surroundedby several empty chocolate mint patty wrappers had also mysteriously disappeared after they went on a hikingtrip for a week in the Rockies. It happened almost three years to the day after he’d purchased a ten million dollar insurancepolicy.

Her last husband, multimillionaire Deacon Shood B. Everlastin’, heir to the Everlastin’ Battery conglomerate, had his suspicions and wouldn’t go hiking in the Rockies; so instead, he died from food poisoning. No one knew that he had a ravenous appetite for chocolate mint patties until they found a pocketful of empty wrappers, especially since both he and Mother Eternal Ann Everlastin’ were known diabetics.

Rumors swirled around her fortune and her three husbands’misfortunes for years. Some called her the Curse of the Rocky Mountains, but Mother’s bottomless pit of wealthy donations to every foundation ranging from Save the Aardvarksto the Police Athletic League finally squelched the chatterand all the federal investigations. Although, she never knew that behind her back, people still hummed the melody to “Killing Him Softly With Her Song.”

Mother Eternal Ann Everlastin’ wasn’t always a member of the No Hope Now—Mercy Neva Church. She was once a longtime member of the Ain’t Nobody Else Right But Us—All Others Goin’ to Hell Church, which was currently pastoredby the Reverend Knott Enuff Money. She had left that church because she couldn’t get along with the then seventy-year-oldMother Pray Onn, who at that time was the chairpersonof the Mothers Board and always thought that nobody knew God like she knew Him.

However, the real reason why the two old, feisty women didn’t get along was a stupid one that usually caused a lot of tension between most women, in and out of the church. It was because they were both interested in a very virile sixty-five-year-old.He was a lifetime resident of Pelzer named Brother Benn Dead. Back in his hey-day, his virility was legendary.He was the reason why most men and women in Pelzer were reluctant to date each other. They could never be sure, without a blood test, if they were brother and sister.

Brother Benn Dead was a young man by the two women’s standards. It never mattered to them that he always kept a miniature, battery-operated resuscitator-on-a-rope handy and hidden under his shirt.

Brother Benn Dead claimed he had a heart condition and the few blue pills that often fell from his pockets were nitroglycerinnot Viagra.

That lie would’ve worked if he hadn’t needed emergency treatment every other month for a suspiciously chronic stiff throat and elbow. It usually happened after one of his outings to the local bingo hall, which was heavily frequented by lonely and unsuspecting females.

Anyhow, Brother Benn Dead claimed a heart problem and not a mental one. He decided that he’d be safer dating Mother Pray Onn. Satisfaction was more of a guarantee with whatever monies he could sweet-talk from her monthly pension.He was less likely to see sixty-six if he ever went on a camping date with Mother Eternal Ann Everlastin’.

“I don’t need him or this church.” Mother Eternal Ann Everlastin’ pouted. She felt slighted and unforgiving while watching Brother Benn Dead and Mother Pray Onn act blissfullyhappy. She packed away her dirty and well-used, foldawayshovel and several unopened boxes of chocolate mint patties. She secreted her frayed mountain-hiking map, which had several old smudged x marks on it and another new one drawn in pencil.

Several weeks later, after being snubbed by Brother Benn Dead, she met Reverend Bling Moe Bling at an invitation only Mo’ Money Comin’ revival. They joined together in a karaoke hymn contest that lasted well into the wee hours after the shouting and testa-lying was finished. That night, they won a Billy Banks ten-dollar-off discount coupon for a Tae-Bo lesson, after lip-syncing a gospel version of the tune “Love Train,” a secular song made popular by a group called the O’Jays.

“You have an amazing voice,” Reverend Bling Moe Bling teased her. He’d watched in disbelief at the several large donationsshe’d placed in the many collection baskets without blinking an eye. “You sound like a mocha angel from on high. I just know there’s a place for you in the choir—and no doubt, you’d be the lead soloist.”

He laid a polite hand gently on her shoulder and whisperedas best he could in a hoarse voice, “You know, I always knew that after God called me on my cell phone and told me to go and preach that He’d make a way for me to do it.” Raisinghis head as though he were giving thanks, he continued, “God has sent me a singing angel; He’s sent you.”

Of course, the Reverend Bling Moe Bling wasn’t aware that practically everyone to whom he told that story thought his cell phone must’ve been set on vibrate because no one eitherbelieved or heard God call him. He continued cooing little niceties lacing them with the prearranged Bible verses and sweetly massaged her ego until she finally reached into her purse for her checkbook.

“Ooh. Come on now.” Mother Eternal Ann Everlastin’ blushed. She somehow managed to push to the back of her mind, the annoying fact that the karaoke hymn CD had skipped during the entire time they’d been singing.

It should’ve been a clear clue, and it would’ve been to anyone but her.

They saw each other again in the hotel lobby as they checked out after the revival ended. Giving the appropriate good-byes, they determined that it would probably be months before they saw each other again. They promised to keep in touch by telephone.

It was hardly a week later, after her five thousand-dollar donation check cleared, that she received a phone call from Reverend Bling Moe Bling. Mother Eternal Ann Everlastin’ was overjoyed to hear his voice. “Oh my goodness. It’s so good to hear from you. I was just thinking about our duet together.”

The Reverend Bling Moe Bling never believed in fixing things that weren’t broke. It worked before at the conference and would probably work again, so he added a little nasal but raspy baritone to his voice and sweetly cooed. He thought he was smooth as butter armed with his scriptural arsenal of several prearranged Bible verses again. This time he was going for broke as he tried to sweeten the romantic Songs of Solomon.

When the Reverend Bling Moe Bling finished laying it on thicker than his rap sheet, one would’ve thought Barry White had called Mother Eternal Ann Everlastin’.

The phone had hardly clicked in its cradle before she had moved her membership, along with her considerable wealth to the Reverend Bling Moe Bling’s little storefront church of No Hope Now—Mercy Neva.

It never bothered her that her new church was only five blocks away from her former pastor, Reverend Knott Enuff Money and his congregation. She was on her way to get a new start and, definitely, if her money was any good and she was certain it was, a loftier position.

It was when she showed up at the first Sunday service of her new church, wearing her most expensive “I should be the First Lady of somebody’s church” hat that she got a big surprise. That was the day when she discovered that there was a Mrs. (Bertha) Bling Moe Bling.

The shocked Mother Eternal Ann Everlastin’ also found out that the First Lady Bertha Bling, in her earlier years, had spent some less-than-quality time at a Women’s Attitude AdjustmentCenter. She’d done time at the state’s request for shoplifting and battery. The store security guard had determinedthat she shouldn’t leave with property that wasn’t hers. She’d determined that she didn’t agree with his determinationand beat him with his own nightstick.

Mother Eternal Ann Everlastin’ also found out that even after Sister Bertha Bling claimed to have given her life to Christ, it seemed that there was a little taste of residual thug tendencies left in the first lady’s personality.

According to First Lady Bertha Bling, she had only been studying the Bible for a short while and hadn’t been fully delivered.She was still studying in the first five books, trying to learn how to pronounce the names of the begets, and wasn’t up to the part in the Bible about turning the other cheek. And, sometimes it seemed like she wasn’t in a big hurry to get to that last part. Most of the folks just nodded a “yes ma’am” to Bertha and gave her space.

It didn’t take the Reverend Bling Moe Bling long to realizethat he’d gone a bit too far in trying to entice Mother Eternal Ann Everlastin’ into his fold, so he made sure that Mother Eternal Ann Everlastin’ was appointed and ordained head of the Mothers Board, in less than an hour after she and her money had stepped foot through the door.

At that time, she was the oldest female in the church and the only one on the Mothers Board.

The word spread like wildfire through the five-block distancethat Mother Eternal Everlastin’ was moving her membershipand her money and without so much as a letter of resignation. That bad news was too much for the greedy Reverend Knott Enuff Money and the Bishop Was Nevercalled.To lose such a wealthy member was something akin to blasphemy in their small minds. They hadn’t given a secondthought to her absence thinking that she was just away on a short vacation.

They would’ve much rather have lost their religion, if they’d had any.

The next Sunday morning the two men rose early and without so much as brushing their teeth or dabbing on bakingsoda or deodorant to mask their body odor, they rushed over to the little church they swore they’d never step foot in. They rushed from their cars ready to verbally fight with ReverendBling Moe Bling who stood laughing at the front door.

The Reverend Knott Enuff Money and the Bishop Was Nevercalled called the Reverend Bling Moe Bling all kinds of names. They even tried lifting their arms to invoke a bolt of lightning to strike him. It was a good thing they didn’t have that type of power or the three of them would’ve stood there smoking like three burning bushes.

The reverend and the bishop fought to keep Mother EternalAnn Everlastin’ like two lions over the last lioness—or the last millionaire in Pelzer.

The sounds of mayhem caused by the Reverend Knott Enuff Money and the bishop finally got her to come outside. They hadn’t been able to invoke lightning but it had started raining. For about ten minutes, they stood out in the drenchingrain on the sidewalk and tried begging and even bribery to keep her from leaving their church, ignoring the fact that she had already moved on.

“Mother Everlastin,’ please come back,” the bishop and the reverend pleaded.

They looked pitiful, as if someone had stolen the last communion wafer and watered down the wine.

“Y’all just look ridiculous,” Reverend Bling Moe Bling said indignantly. He could hardly keep from laughing aloud. To keep himself appearing more devout, he added, “I’ll run inside and get you two an umbrella to share.”

That last remark from Reverend Bling Moe Bling was too much. He might as well have called their mamas an umbrella.

The Bishop Was Nevercalled suddenly broke away from the reverend and started his own brazen plea as he pulled his collar up higher to ward off the rain. “We will name one of the front pews after you. It will be up front with no cigarette burns, oil stains or broken slats,” he promised.

The Reverend Knott Enuff Money looked at him like he was a spot of mucus, but that didn’t stop Bishop Was Nevercalledfrom continuing his embarrassing plea. “You know you-you can take that to the the bank.”

He’d started stuttering so Mother Eternal Ann Everlastin’ knew he was lying. She usually suspected that he was lying as soon as his mouth opened, but when the stuttering came, she knew for certain.

Reverend Knott Enuff Money not to be outdone joined in and wept, “We’ll even put a gold-layered plaque on the side of the pew so the whole church will know we were bought.” He was pleading hard, with desperation. He started sweating the Jheri out of his Jheri curl, which was already napping up from the rain.

Bishop Was Nevercalled pushed the reverend out of the way with a hard shove. He crossed his fingers behind his back to lessen the lie he was about to tell and added in his usual stuttering manner, “We’ll even run-run an ad in the newspaper,the Daily BLAB, to announce yo’ good deed.”

They’d been out there so long that the service had ended inside the church. None of their lies or pleas worked. Her unblinking, piercing and mistrusting brown eyes looked right through them. They couldn’t move her money or her membership back to the Ain’t Nobody Else Right But Us—All Others Goin’ to Hell Church with a Jaws of Life machine.

She sucked her teeth, switched her hips, each movement shooting arrows of death at them and walked on through the rain and into her car. She rolled her windows down and hollered, “I’ll see you later, Reverend Bling Moe Bling.” She waved at him and suddenly stopped, adding while she pointed to the Reverend Knott Enuff Money and the Bishop Was Nevercalled who were still on the sidewalk, “It would be so nice if the sanitation department picked up the trash on Sundays, wouldn’t it?”

She didn’t wait for Reverend Bling Moe Bling to commentor to see how deep her words cut her former pastor and bishop. She rolled up her car window and got ready to leave.

Finally, with nothing more to lose, hopelessness overtook their good judgment. They jumped up and ran into the street. They lay flat out in surrender in front of Mother’s gold-coloredBentley. She had the car before the 2003 Rolls Royce limousine. She’d given up the Bentley because she wanted to appear to sacrifice for the Lord and didn’t want to seem too extravagant when she flaunted her wealth.

The bishop, not quite sure of Mother’s driving skills, tried to rise up. The side of the Bentley snagged the hip pocket of Bishop Was Nevercalled, causing about twenty dollars in change to scatter all over the street. “Wait, Mother Everlastin’,my-my pants are caught in yo’ door and my-my money spilled out.” He wasn’t so hurt or upset that he didn’t try to unhook his pocket and scamper to retrieve his change; after all, it was still money.

Mother Everlastin’ ignored the bishop and her Bentley leaped forward and sped on a few feet. The car swerved right and left before it caught Reverend Knott Enuff Money’s nappy Jheri curl wig on its side-view mirror as he bent down to plead through the window.

If she’d driven five miles faster, the headlines would have read: SIDE-VIEW MIRROR DECAPITATES PREACHER. Both of the men were temporarily stunned but managed to jump up and out of the way. They were both bruised and dirty with ripped pants pockets, a shriveled-up Jheri curl wig and leftover change scattered about the street.

The two of them were beyond scandalous. When she finallystopped the car, they ran over and apologized to her for being in her way. They even offered to take up an offering to replace the side-view mirror and have one of the homeless beggars give her a free carwash from a bucket with a soapy fresh squeegee.

“Well suh. I’ve seen it all. Just strike ’em dead, Lord!” Mother screamed as her car surged ahead into traffic.

Having a conscience was foreign to those two scallywags. Before Mother Eternal Ann Everlastin’ came into a ton of money from her somewhat questionable estates, they couldn’t have picked her out in a crowd of two congregation members.

From that day forward and in her disgust, she vowed never to return to their church, not even for a Friends and Family Day celebration. She swore that she’d be dead before she would. She also got rid of the Bentley and bought herself a classy Rolls Royce limousine. She did that rather than to have to replace the side-view mirror.

This Sunday, no sooner had the sunroof of Mother’s limo closed, than green and white pigeon poop rained down onto the roof. It was another sign of chaotic events about to happen.

Mother Eternal Ann Everlastin’s tinted limo window rolled down slowly. She peeked out and around before she placed her twenty-carat diamond-rimmed sunglasses atop her silver-blue wig and screamed at the twin deacons. “Y’all gonna stand there gawking ’til the Rapture comes or are you gonna take my bags inside the church?”

Mother Eternal Ann Everlastin’ had money but not a lot of class. Her tasteless actions showed that in her case class