The Parish drunk…

Suddenly, St. Athony Abate Parish member Aristotle Carpazzio didn’t feel quite so ostracized by the greater parish community. Although he hadn’t touched a drop in months, it seemed only now that the rest of the parish – and especially the Ladies Sodality – were beginning to take a shine to him. Whether this was due to some sort of domestic “Road to Damascus” experience on their part, whereby the scales of castigation and prejudice fell from their eyes, or because Aristotle felt – almost literally – like a fish out of water, he couldn’t say. What he did know is that, despite the rudderless drift of the pastorage – so tragically and recently hooked in the gills by the barbs of fallen sin – the whisky tasted as good as ever. With a pert grin on his face, he also knew something else: as long as Father Angelica was persona non gratis around the parish, he could go back to this Jacob’s Well of good fortune, as it were, as often as he liked….

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