The Healing Ministry Of Prophetess Sissy

 The title says it all - my girlfriend has officially embarked on what promises to be a very profitable blessed ministry of healing/knocking down sick people and speaking the prophetic word!

Since her anointing, Sissy has been honing her prophetess skills. So far, she's miraculously healed me of a headache, twitch, and even uncontrollable farting after dinner at Taco Bell the other night. As if that weren't enough, I personally saw her heal her little sister Spud of acting like a moron, at least temporarily - praise Jesus!

The Prophetess still needs a little more work on knocking people down with a touch (insider jargon - "slaying in the spirit"), but she's getting there. So far, her best results have been with repetitious, soft hymns playing in the background while she questions the afflicted in a low, soothing voice. With escalating volume, she then starts speaking in tongues, culminating in her smacking the afflicted person in the forehead with her open palm while screaming "FIRE! FIRE ON YA!!" At this point, the person falls backward into a blissful, comatose state, then starts convulsing like they're being electrocuted. The first time she tried this on me I passed out and peed all over the carpet (If this had been a church event, we would have had a "catcher" arresting my fall and putting a little blanket over my genital area).

During her training, Sissy's biggest challenge was getting Spud to fall over - no doubt because of her mild retardation (Spud's not Sissy's). Every time Sissy slapped her on the forehead, Spud would start kicking like a little spastic Jackie Chan. We finally determined that Spud was possessed by a demon of non-compliance, so we tied her to the coffee table and branded her stomach with a heated coat hanger in the shape of a cross, which seemed to help. Now Spud falls over when Sissy smacks her in the forehead, but Sissy has to flash the coat hanger first.

Prophetess Sissy's strongest anointing is easily her speaking the prophetic word. Yesterday, she had a "word of knowledge" that our cat, Mr. Jangles, was in danger. Incredibly, an hour later, I found him trapped in the dryer! Later, in the middle of the night, Sissy woke me up to give me a word of knowledge that our neighbor somehow needed help. I ran next door to find Mrs. Schneider's prized rose bush on fire! This undeniably confirmed Sissy's prophetic powers, as she doesn't even like Mrs. Schneider.

Anyway, through God's grace and a new Facebook page, Prophetess Sissy already has a gig lined up at a Pentecostal church downtown this weekend. In the spirit of Christian charity, she's graciously agreed to appear for free and a "love gift" of 5% of the offering. I'm no prophetess, but I predict God's getting ready to bless me with a new Rolex!

The Calling

Everyone knows how much I aspire to be an inner-city pastor, but also has seen how difficult it's been for me to get the tools I need to be one. My campaign to raise money for a new Mercedes only managed to bring in $14, and my only bling is a high school class ring, a puka shell necklace, and a Fossil watch with a dead battery. Meanwhile, these guys live like rock stars, and they probably know less about the Bible than even I do. It's not fair.

So anyway, my girlfriend Sissy and I happened to catch this new show the other night, and in the middle of it, a voice spoke to my spirit:

Voice: Reverend Bishop Scooter... (deep with lots of reverb)

My spirit: This is the Reverend Bishop. Over.

Voice: You don't have to say "over."

My spirit: 10-4.

Voice: This isn't Smokey and the Bandit.

My spirit: Okay.

Voice: I have a message concerning your girlfriend.

My spirit: Sissy?

Voice: She has something very unique.

My spirit: Mold?

Voice: No.

My spirit: Back boob?

Voice: She has a calling on her to be a prophet.

My spirit: She should be a prostitute? How much should I charge?

Voice: No, a female prophet - a prophetess. She has a calling to knock down sick people for money.

My spirit: She can do that. She's very strong.

Voice: Transfer some of your anointing to her in a ritualistic ceremony so she can go forth and do my will.

My spirit: Okey-dokey.

After the show, I told Sissy about the voice and what it had told me. She brought my special prayer cloth/car wash mitt, and I poured some oil (extra virgin) on it, thereby activating the anointing. I then freestyled some powerful prayers while slowly rubbing them all over Sissy's nude body. By the time I was finished, she was speaking in tongues, verifying the process had taken. 

With that completed, it was time to test her new healing powers. I had Sissy lay hands on me to heal me of some painful inflammation I'd suddenly been afflicted with. In the name of Moses, I am happy to hereby declare Sissy to be a genuine prophetess.

Next: Prophetess Sissy heals my ailing bank account.

Grunter

  Saturday was a bittersweet day for my girlfriend Sissy and me. You see, we're both horse people, although not in the sense that one or both of our parents were horses - I mean, we like horses, or at least used to. Watching the Belmont Stakes really dredged up some poignant memories for us both, especially poor Sissy. I'll explain.

When I was growing up, my grandparents had a farm with a couple of ponies, and I used to ride one named "Billy." One day, Billy kicked me in the head (I accidentally scared him while attempting to paint his balls green as a joke*). I was scared of horses after that, and every time Billy got within 20 feet of me, I'd get dizzy and pee my pants. After he passed away, I was less afraid, but still not 100%.

Sissy actually had her own horse when she was in high school. She named him "Grunter" because of the funny sounds he liked to make. She loved that horse and rode him almost every day. On her birthday during her senior year, her grandfather gave her five rolls of pennies he had saved up so she could buy some candy or one of those little hams she likes. Sissy jumped on Grunter to go get some candy, but he ran just a few steps before suffering a freak injury that ultimately resulted in him being put down a few days later.

The veterinarian said he'd never seen a horse break in half like that, and said Grunter must have had some kind of hereditary spinal weakness or something. Sissy was devastated and hasn't been able to even look at a horse until we watched the Belmont at Mom's house Saturday.

When the race began, Sissy at first didn't want to watch, but I told her it was time to put the past behind her. Although she appeared to do okay, Sissy confided later that at one point she suffered a vivid flashback of trotting along and suddenly dropping to her feet and running while still on the saddle, Grunter's belly sending up a shower of gravel and dust as it plowed the road. Luckily, she snapped out of it and went on to cheer with tears in her eyes as American Pharaoh won the Triple Crown. I peed uncontrollably.

The bond between humans and ponies is a special one - I pray that Saturday was a first step for both of us to be able to enjoy horses again, especially Sissy.

*The cowboy left the bar to find someone had painted his horse's balls green. He went back into the bar and angrily yelled, "Who the hell painted my horse's balls green?" A 6'7", 320 lb. form stood up in back and said, "I did, what's it to ya?" The cowboy replied, "First coat's dry!"

Reader Interaction

 Here's where I interact with my readers:

Reader: i am a woman and i find it sickening how you make fun of sissy. is that all you can think of to write about is making fun of her? men like you are the reason i hate men. you better be careful or ill steal sissy away from you, you piece of shit!

Me: The "shift" key is the little one down on the left side that says "shift." When you push it while typing it capitalizes letters, retard.

Reader: i know exactly where the shift key is and im not using it on purpose because i know how much it drives you crazy. i can see it works great you little dildo.

Me: Nice try covering your stupidity, but only a retard or meth addict can't or won't capitalize (or use proper punctuation) - I'm betting you're both. Oh yeah, also I don't communicate with homos.

Reader: i want you know that i just sent multiple emails to other people and i capitalized and used proper punctuation in them all - they were perfect

Me: I know that's a lie, because you're not even smart enough to put in a period on that last comment. I dare you to do a sentence with both capitalization and punctuation.

Reader: i so easily could but i wont because you told me to

Me: Either comment correctly or stop emailing me. I'm serious.

Reader: what

Me: Is that supposed to be a question? 

Reader: huh

Me: Is that like "yes?" 

Reader: que pasa

Me: That does it, quit emailing me. 

Reader: brcktaz

Me: That's not even a word. I pray to God that your whole family gets crushed by a falling piano. 

Reader: r

Me: You are hereby banned for life.

Reader: .

Me: Too late.