When Father Ho Lung raised his frock
THE EDITOR, Sir:
So just when we thought the condemnation, commendation and drooling over the legs of the minister of youth and beauty culture were over, and detractors and admirers had wiped up when they were finished, the most scathing of remarks was yet to come.
Out of the dark, unprovoked, it was fired by a man of the cloth. He who goes around covered from head to toe. The priest, if you will.
"Why would the minister of youth and (beauty) culture, just short of complete nudity, strip herself down and post herself on social media in an obvious cry to the public through the media to call attention to herself?" the pious one wrote. That hurt. She had certainly got his attention.
You know Ho Lung he's waiting in the wings to pounce upon the Beauty, who, he claimed, has abandoned her duty in the name of beauty. And whom he compared to Lucifer.
"I am reminded of Lucifer's fall from heaven. I hope that our youth will not follow her example," the bitter denunciation continued.
And wherever he was in this unfolding universe, the Son of the Morning, the Fairest of Them All, was livid. How could the priest compare him to a curvaceous woman? But Lucifer, in his own infinite beauty, just smiled and left him to the vilest of them all, the Jamaicans.
With Lucifer's own three-pronged fork, with bared claws, with two-edged tongues, with Cuban machetes and ratchet knives, they attacked the Priest online. His supporters were outnumbered. Where was God when he needed him most?
When it was all over, the priest's long, white frock was torn to shreds, exposing pallid, ageing legs, dotted with wrinkled tattoos of the Virgin Mary.
Ave Maria! Ave Lisa!