Aganactesis (ag’-an-ak-tee’-sis): An exclamation proceeding from deep indignation
Where the hell is my damn Bible? I left it right here on the floor. Tonight, I have to lead our group in the opening prayer. Holding a Bible over my heart adds oomph to my message and makes it a hell of a lot more effective. So, where the hell is it? If you kids are playin’ a prank on me, I’ll beat your butts until they are flashing bright red!
You know, our group was founded 2O years ago as “Rams and Lambs” so we could shepherd young people onto the path of righteousness.
We have a small gambling casino. We show our lambs the full range of casino games. From craps to the wheel of fortune, they become enamored with chance—the motive to making choices solely on the basis of luck, winning or losing with no foundation but desire. They win. They lose. Some have luck. Some have no luck at all.
The casino prepares them for Christ ringing their hearts’ doorbells and asking to be let in. Jesus Chris is not a gamble. When the doorbell rings, you are assured of salvation if you let Jesus in. If you’d rather gamble and lock the door, Satan is waiting down in your guts’ basement to make you his.
But, you already know this wife and children. And yes, I have found my Bible! It was in the refrigerator’s vegetable bin. Hallelujah! It smells like onions, but that’s ok. But how the hell did it end up in the refrigerator? We’ll talk about this later.
Suddenly a bolt of lightning struck Mr. Flocker, right there in the living room! As he lay smoking on the carpet, a deep voice said: “You are full of it Flocker.” Sill smoking, Mr. Flocker sat up. “Look, if you want me to work for you, you’ve got to cut me a little slack.” Mr. Flocker yelled. The deep voice said “Cut slack?” and Mr. Flocker’s head fell off and landed on his Bible.
Mrs. Flocker and her two kids ran out the door. Mrs. Flocker called a Uber. They were driven to Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada where Mrs. Flocker’s brother lived. The cab fare was $1,406.00. It maxed out her credit card, but it beat taking a bus. Mrs. Flocker got a job picking Saskatoon berries. The owner of the berry field had a raging crush on Mrs. Flocker. To woo her, he paid her $1.00 for every Berry she picked. “Berry-Berry” was going broke but he didn’t care! When she hit 200,000 berries, he proposed to her. See said “No.”
She saw that a cold and brutal winter was on the way, so the Flocker’s were flying to Miami that afternoon to escape the hellish winter. The owner of the berry farm was heartbroken and tried to drown himself in a vat of berry juice. He survived and was dyed permanently purple by the berry juice. He became a celebrity and forgot about Mrs. Flocker in 5-6 days. He was on Canadian national news and inundated with fan mail, a lot of contained marriage proposals. He settled with a young woman from Kansas named Dorothy. Meanwhile, Mrs. Flocker was flourishing in Miami’s South Beach. She was selling condos, mostly to Russians. She won a raffle for a one-week stay in St. Kitts-Nevis. As she and her two kids jumped on the little plane, she felt optimistic about the trip. She felt like something good was going to happen! And it did!
She met a Dutch man named Arno. He travelled the Caribbean selling paint. White was the only color he sold, but he did a good business nevertheless. They got married. Mrs, Flocker stayed home with the kids while Arno sailed around selling paint. She she never left St. Kitts-Nevis. Arno was a model husband and they lived happily ever after. As they grew older, the kids made a good income looting hotel rooms and mugging tourists walking on the beach at night. Arno found about their criminal activities and takes 10% to keep his mouth shut.all is well.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu)
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