My run-in with a street preacher.

Let me set the scene for you. It’s a, well, scenic Sunday morning, near Yonge and Dundas. A few teenagers, including our hero, Gadfly, are flitting about. Suddenly, a tall, hunched-over man with staring eyes shambles up to Gadfly, and begins to speak.

Preacher: Have you accepted Jesus as your Lord and personal savior?
Gadfly: glances over, and rolls his eyes Satan.
Preacher: What?
Gadfly: Nothing.
Preacher: So, do you know the love of Jesus?
Gadfly: Satan.
Preacher: What?
Gadfly: Nothing.

The preacher then mumbled and continued on his way.

Preachers, please don’t interrupt me and my friends’ Sunday. Thank you. Also: shouldn’t you be in Church?

Preacher: So, do you know the love of Jesus?

Me: No, sorry, I’m not gay. (keeps walking)

I should try that one.

“Wait a minute! Jesus loves you? He said he loved me! That two-timing bastard!”

“Have you found Jesus?”
“Yeah, I found Jesus last week. He was passed out drunk in my driveway. So I called the cops.”

Gadfly, meet jjimm.

Huh. Street prachers must be breeding.

Question is, who’s the father? Jesus or the preacher?

Great minds, etc. Gadfly!

raises warning finger

“Do not mess with the Jesus!”

Miller, that’s even better.

Nobody fucks with the Jesus!

</John Turturro>