Fred's Day

And it came to pass that the Reverend Pastor Fred Waldron Phelps of the Westboro Baptist Church, died and went unto his heavenly reward.

Verily, Fred had prayed and worked hard his whole life.

“I’ve done it all, Lord. I’ve cursed and rebuked all the faggots, and the harlots, and the fag enablers, and the filth, and all the scum that infested your sacred world, Lord. And now I’m comin’ home to ye!”, Fred prayed quietly, as he ascended the golden stairway to the place of judgement.

At the top of the stair, the Lord God Almighty rested on his magnificent throne surrounded by the multitudes of angels and all the Saints.

The Lord shifted gently in his seat, causing the flowing golden chains attached to his nipple rings, to clank gently. The sequin studded thong adorning God’s Holy Nether Bits spangled brightly in Fred’s face, and lo, Fred could not avoid noticing how little it withheld from his imagination.

“Well, big boy”, God intoned, “You’ve no idea how much we have all been looking forward to this…!”

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