Maybe it was the look on my face, or maybe he just realized he’d said too much. Either way, he quickly changed the subject. “Say, you got kids in the YFL? I just got in a shipment of Ablaze! tongue studs. They’re a great witnessing tool, and the kids’ll feel just like one of the Apostles on Pentecost!
I’d heard all I could stomach and made for the door. “If you’re worried about your checkbook, we also accept vouchers from your congregation, credit cards….” I didn’t hear the rest; I was already far down the street.
Poor Miss Oura Synod…. Bamboozled again. And Knott was wrong. Great-Great-Great Grandpa wasn’t dead and he hadn’t lost a thing! Others were hiding his stuff so he’d appear to be nothing but a really mean old man ready for the Alzheimer’s wing. What could I do? What could I do?