XVII
The next morning, Brandon gets a visit from some very interesting and strangely behaving visitors.
“Good morning to you, young man.”
Stretching and yawning, Brandon says, “What’s up?”
“I’m Brother Al, and this here is my brother in the Lord, Tommy. What is your name, young man?”
“Brandon. What do you guys want?”
“Good question, Brandon. We are messengers sent on behalf of the Heavenly Language Ministries. We are here to impart the gift of tongues to you and teach you how to speak in tongues. I have a quick question for you, Brandon: Are you saved, son?”
“Nope,” Brandon replies.
“Well, we promise not to take up too much of your time, because we want to spread the gift to all the sick in this medical facility. If you don’t mind, we’d like to say a prayer with you.”
“All right. I mean . . . yeah, OK, I guess.”
“Now, as we pray, the spirit will come upon you and shall overtake you and cause you to speak in unknown tongues, but don’t be afraid or dismayed. This is your calling.”
“Huh?” says Brandon. “What you talking about, man? I don’t know if I’m cool with—”
Before Brandon can finish his sentence, Brother Al begins praying.
“Lord, we rebuke that spirit of rebellion and doubt, and we cast it back to the pits of hell from whence it came. Loosen his tongue, Lord, so that he may speak utterances unknown to man. Ah-la-la-hah, ooh-ah-cah, ta-ta-too, ta-ta-too . . .”
After putting up with their gyrating for a moment or two, Brandon has seen and heard enough, and decides to end the charade.
“Sir, could you . . . sir . . . hey, sir!” yells Brandon.
“Is there a problem, Brandon? There’s nothing to be afraid of, son.”
“Look man, I don’t know what kind of language y’all trying to get me to speak, but let me ask you guys something.”
“Sure thing. You can ask us anything you want to, Brandon.”
“Do y’all curse?”
“Not at all, Brandon. Why would you ask us something like that, son?”
“Because I do. And if you two don’t get the hell outta here with that all that crazy-a-- sh-t y’all doing, I’m about to curse y’all clean the f--k out!”
“Have it your way, son, but we will mark this day as the day the heathen lifted up his heel against the messengers of the highest. We will henceforth return no more. We shall shake the dust off our feet as a witness, that it may be accounted a curse upon you. We pray for your lost soul, son.”
“Oh, no, sir! Don’t you pray for me or anybody else in this hospital for that reason. That’s the kind of prayer that you need to keep all for yourself and for your comrade you brought along with you there. Thanks, but no thanks! I’m good!”