riot gear. He’d had enough of these guys.
The preacher removed his mask. He looked young, maybe mid-twenties, with a
couple days of stubble.
“Good work today,” he said. “It was about time something like this
happened. I always hated what we were doing.”
“Then you shouldn’t have fucking followed orders,” the puppet said.
“I know,” the preacher replied. “And I’m sorry.”
He exhaled a fine mist. As soon as Luke inhaled it, he collapsed.
The sock puppet remained unaffected. While passed out on the ground, the
arm with Sock Puppet Jesus attached flailed wildly, trying to attack the
preacher.
“You fuckers!” the puppet screamed. “You won’t win!”
Two more preachers approached. A third materialized from thin air.
“We already have won,” the unmasked preacher told him.
Sock Puppet Jesus thrashed and cursed as they covered him with a sack. It
took three of them to carry Luke to a waiting vehicle.
“Let’s take him to the boss,” the mist-spitting preacher said.