“Weyell, it’s Sundy mornin’, I’m the new pastor of this church and there ain’t no wars to park! Am I supposed to park in tha mud and trudge dirty tracks all through the sanc-jew-wearreh?”
“Now, Gerald, there’s not that much mud around here. It ain’t rained in days. Looky over thar. I see a patch of dry grass. Go park over thar. Ain’t we ‘posed to be servants eenyheway? You can serve this church by parking a little futher away and serve it by preachin’ a might good sermon in about 15 minutes.”
“It’ll take us that long to get to tha front door, Glenda.”
About 50 yards away, Billy and Tommy Watson, brothers and long-time members of the little church, saw Brother Gerald and his wife get out of the car.
“Now, that ain’t right, Tommeh.”
“Whatjew main, Billeh?”
“A pastor parking his Crown Victoria way over thar. This is his church. He deserves a good parking space. Why hadn’t we thought of it bee-fer?”
“This is God’s church, Billeh, but yore raht. The man deserves his own parkin’ space. I got just the idear.”
So, Billy made this, except he left out one little detail on his first try:
|*I saw this sign by a country restaurant we like to eat at sometimes. It made me happeh.*|
“Well, Billeh, that’s a nahs sign yew made fer Brother Gerald, butju forgot the ‘postrophe ehyes. ‘PASTOR PARKING’ ain’t gonna help none. Joel Osteen gonna drive by and thank HE can park thar. That space ain’t for no Joel Osteen, it’s fer BROTHER GERALD! Joel Osteen got himself a gazillion parking spaces and prolly a helicopter pad, too. This one ain’t heeyiz. That’s why yew need an ehyes on the end of PASTOR.”
“But, I ain’t go no more room, Tommeh!”
“Squeeze it in thar, Billeh. Squeeze it in thar like you squeeze into them coveralls you war ever-day. You ever wash them suckers?”
“Well, SHORE I do. This ain’t no time to be pokin’ fun. Weez at church. Yer s’posed to be nahs. ‘specially to yer own flesh ‘n blood. Wait ’til I tell Mommuh. Eeny-he-way, yer right. It does need an ehyes. Good thang I still have my paint brush and can.”
“Yeah, good thang.”
So, Billy painted an “s” under the “r” in the word PASTOR.
And Joel Osteen has never once tried to park there.
“Well, wouldju look at that, Glenda? I got my own space! Ain’t God good?”, Pastor Gerald said as he said as he drove up the next Sunday.
“He SHORE eeyiz, Gerald. He SHOOOOOOOORE eeyiz.”
(You know I made this whole story up, right?)