The Missionary Position

Allen took the week off from bullshitting the local Nascar demographic in order to spend some time in the Caribbean misleading an even more hopeless and ignorant class of savages. You might think that I, Erik in Athens, as Allen's arch-nemesis, would have seen this as an opportunity to also take some time off and spend the week in Allen-free solace, glutting myself on pastries and ministering to the needs of my cock. Well, dear reader, you would be wrong. At least this time.

Since Allen spent his post-Pisgah vacation among the cannibals of St. Lucia, I thought it was the least I could do to make a mission trip of my own. And since I am not flush with church money like some people I could not afford to go as far as the Caribbean. So I did the the next best thing: I went to Walton County.

I have been driving by this religious compound on Hwy 78 for years now, and have always been a little curious about what went on inside. From the road you can just see a small driveway leading to large white gates with the name "Little Bethlehem" above them. I drove up to the gates once a few months ago, just to see what was what but couldn't really tell much. There are several large buildings, some ornate decorations, and what appear to be homes on the outskirts of the property, but I didn't see any people thereabouts. Probably a good thing, since I was just showing up uninvited and was therefore concerned about how I might be received. I did take a picture of the little guard shack that sits next to the main gate. Even though it was empty I tried my best not to look like an ATF agent.

I'm not sure what Christian Security is but it's apparently pretty lax. Maybe God was on duty.

I actually got out of the car and walked around for a bit. It was creepy. All these elaborate buildings and not one person walking around or car driving up or door slamming or human activity of any kind. In the eerie quiet though I heard a noise. It was faint but discernable- Christian muzak- dribbling softly out of speakers around the buildings. No one around to hear it. No one but me, that is.

I told you it was creepy. I took a few pics and retreated without incident. That was probably six months ago and I hadn't given the place much thought since.

But when I saw a banner outside the compound last week advertising a "Campmeeting with Prayer for the Sick" I new my nemesis duties compelled me to match Allen's missionary zeal by venturing in.

Next Episode: Erik goes to camp