Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Mortification of the Flesh

The small shrine is heaped with new shoelaces. The smell of ozone underlies the musk of rubber and sweat. The acolytes bow and stretch before the shrine each morning as they complete their devotional run.

Beside the shrine is a fat man and a steaming cart. The fat man sells hot dogs, brownies, cookies, and chips. The acolytes curse him in gasping breaths as a servant of the grease-larded Sofa King. They do not see him pack the shrine reverently away each noon, muttering prayers for fortitude so he might continue his work.

Discipline is meaningless without temptation, after all.


Turned Into Stone said...

So true. Kinda makes me think about how people give up silly things for Lent that they rarely do anyways. Its not much of an act of discipline when you didn't do it to begin with.

Scattercat said...

I only remember Lent as a small child. I think I gave up chocolate most years.