"Um...cherry?" Jeff guessed. "Nope. Peach. Now my turn." I closed my eyes & stuck out my tongue. Jeff put one in my mouth & I sucked. "Black licorice." I said. "Still my turn." Then I felt something different,something solid yet spongy..."I don't think I wanna play anymore." I told Jeff,but he insisted and I guessed:"Hot dog." He shot back, "Nachos!" We were playing comfort food bingo. Jeff was great because he'd taken the 12 year path to undergrad graduation. He wasn't stupid, obviously, but he really strived to live in the moment. And if that meant being an undergrad for 12 years of his obviously-short-life, then so be it. "Donuts!" "I like them sweet, sticky and full of jelly, just like my---" "Johnny, get back over here," said the frazzled young father of quintuplets waiting in line at the bakery. He grabbed The airy sticky bun and got his sticky fingers all over the counter. The quintuplets in the stroller took up half the waiting area and were laughing out loud. They were next in to have their lifelines adjusted. Their mother was concerned whether this particular Grace could handle quintuplets. The Grace's look reminded her that they'd had this conversation years ago, back at the nunnery, when the idea of quintuplets had been purely abstract. How times had changed! By the time this particular Grace's "holy" water broke, their mother had proclaimed herself the Mary of her age, bearing not one but five little messiahs—a proper team of saviors for a flock accustomed to the infinite consumption of the digital era. They formed a conglomerate called Trinity Inc. and sold bluetooth-enabled iCrosses. Eventually, everone had their own personal Jesus.



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