Yearning Apotheosis (9)

   
   "Yearning Apotheosis (9)"
   
   Sister Cindy had heard the warped testimony about Britt Flynn's monstrous misbehavior; as a result, she invoked Saint Roch, Patron Saint of dogs and the falsely accused.  Something was inside or outside of the non-seemingly brave Britt Flynn--something since youth, that had, and was, horrifically haunting him--it is not always THEIR faults, but mischievous Principalities or such, infecting the inviolate virtue of a once spotless Adam.
   Verily, Sister Cindy knew:  Till Death Do Us Part.
   As a servant of God, she was not about to throw away love.  If you love something--you keep it, even if it drains your energy and causes you pain.  To toss it into the trash--that is being an agent of evil; specifically, the easy, cotton candy way out--until you meet your Maker, and without His Son's sacrifice, Him being obedient even unto death--you do not want to meet the Maker (Father), as Christ Himself boldly exclaimed.
   But who believes all that bullshit?  It's America.  He who dies with the most wins, until . . .
   So, with a gallant pulse in her bouncing gait, like a quasi-flying Nun, Sister Cindy did what MOST do not do, she consoled Britt Flynn; next, gave the government-housing system a tongue lashing, rebuking their sin as Christ had commanded.