In Preparation for Receiving The Reverend

Sitting at the edge of her bed, the only things present to her senses were the sound of the razor that roared over her head and the plop sound of the clumps of hair that landed on the ground. Transfixed, she stared inwardly into the mirror by the bed. The daytime hollowed-out feelings were now replaced by a frigid sense of purpose. Shaving her head, she wasted no time in the systematic removal of her hair, an attempt to expeditiously conform to the rules present in the handbook that comfortably leaned against her spine. She liked the way it felt against her, calmly exuding protection, the steady spine resting firmly against her nervous, crawling skin. The Richmond Spoon that once lay dormant within the comfortable confines of the hutch now brightly rested on the bedside table, wrapped in tissue paper, the blue of the pamphlet reflecting in the color scheme of the tissue paper, featured in a rotund band that fastened at the center. The Initials "RR" were drawn out over several hours the day before. The night after she read the pamphlet, the same night she stared into the cobalt blue stone on the Spoon and saw the twilight in her husband's eye in the gem fade away.

It had all seemed so natural, the way one force faded away and another quickly rose to take it's place, like a cross-fade on a four channel mixer, ensuring smooth transitions, so did her mind, replacing the cavernous emptiness of the loss of her husband with the encephalitic rise in the presence of Reverend Reevers within the hierarchy of her inner priorities.

Various headshots of the Reverend now adorned the ornate corners of the fireplace, replacing the space previously occupied by wooden roosters, china piglets, and graduation pictures of the children that forgot about her long ago.

The day of the seminar came without hesitation on her behalf, the morning found her with both feet firmly on the floor by her bed, head shaved, dressed only in a flowing white robe. She had memorized every word of the pamphlet, each paraphrased into her own mind, running on a continuous cycle, each minute of the clock triggering the retelling of another paragraph, each hour reversing the order a little bit, truncating the summary, then recoiling back to the front cover; announcing Reever's name with a low end rumble.

The clock spurned much of this on; ticking impatiently away as the hour of departure arrived. She telephoned Candy McTruner the very next day after all of her priorities changed, the day after her cocoon of a parcel arrived in the rickety mailbox, the last day the mail was checked. Every alarm clock in the house rang out at 8AM. Still in her robe, she calmly rose from the bed and out to the car, having memorized the route days prior to the event in Black Rock. She knew the roadway to the Radisson as some learn their lineage, changing lanes often to maintain momentum, passing slower cars to assure that she was the first one there.

But she was not the first to pull up to the Radisson on that morning. For hordes of other white heads and a few black ones appeared on the horizon line as she sped through the overpass, jetting down the off-ramp, until the sign at the front of the Radisson appeared reading "Welcome Reverend Reevers" filled the frame.

Martha Blayer meets Reverand Reevers

Martha Blayer stepped slowly out towards her mailbox that lay dormant across the dirt road on the row of multi-colored mail receptacles, serving as the communications hub for the trailer park she inhabited. She didn't know why she still bothered to check her mail, but hesitated when she realized it was the only thing she had to look forward to anymore. The sheer unpredictability of the outcome was enough to make her heart rise, temporarily raise her brain's analysis on the day to day functioning of her life style.

As the creaking of the box greeted her not with a direct view of the box's rear side, but a large manila folder, bulging at the seams with some sort of literature, she thought of the possible sources. Maybe it was a pamphlet, perhaps even designed by a graphic artist handcrafted for Martha, a little marketing gift, a friendly ploy to separate her meager income from the much needed maintenance on her trailer, number 63, right next to the abandoned Yamaha motorbike.

The envelope felt silky in her hands as she returned to her 'bungalow'. The weight of the object filled her arms with the assurance of returning from large grocery shopping spree, stuffing the coffers, filling the pantry, squelching out hunger or need. She sat on the edge of the ottoman in the main room, sliding her finger under the sealant, feeling the slight rush of adrenaline as grandiose fonts in bold blue spilled out of the envelope, immediately announcing its presence with all the subtlety of a PT Barnum weekend seminar. "REEVERVISION: THE FAITH OF THE FUTURE" It announced, referring to the immediate line of site picture placement of Richard Reever, CEO , founder and high Priest of ReeverVision. The pamphlet was there to inform recipients of a local seminar occurring exactly two weeks from that date at the local Radisson. Starting at 7pm sharp, attendees were to RSVP immediately to Candy McTruner at 777-325-5282.

The 150 page booklet that accompanied the pamphlet detailed the many ways one could 'maximize life potential and obtain spiritual cleanliness' through the teachings and daily affirmations whose techniques would be introduced at the free seminar.

Martha spent the next few hours illuminated only by the motherly glow of her kitchen television. The sound turned down, she could only hear the dear Reverend reverberating through her mind, reflecting directly from the text she scanned as hours faded into the evening. That night she would learn of the plight of Reverend Reever's family, that he was the youngest of eight children, how his mother was a prostitute until she herself was saved by her own son years later. How he had 'slain the demon' of his former self, recovered completely from Alcohol and Drug Abuse, and how he cultivated holiness within himself through the use of a proprietary hallucinogenic, one that didn't produce hallucinations per se, but increases something called dopamine into the central nervous system. How after extensive testing with focus groups, all members experienced increased levels of personal satisfaction.

The more Martha read on, the more privileged she felt. "Of all the worthy people out there, they chose me to go into Black Rock for one night and attend this seminar." Her thoughts now somehow audible above the roar of the gravel and the ticks of nearby. crickets. This was to be her re awakening after the death of her husband of 20 years two years ago. This was to be the spiritual rebirth that would finally bring her happiness.

She thought nothing of the requirements listed on page 12, detailing the way that one should properly shave their head in order to be a prime receptacle for the Reverends teaching, the curt way it instructed that only white flowing robes be worn over naked flesh. "The subject must be pure in the eyes of the Reverend before they can be pure in the eyes of god." It squarely stated. Martha relished in these parts and instantly saw the importance of everything said, As the pages turned she felt that the text was written explicitly for her, for her shattered life.

She took out her prized spoon collection from the imitation china hutch. Her eyes scanned across the rows of spoons asleep in rows of imitation blue velvet. She finally selected the Richmond Spoon, a keepsake from a road trip she made with her husband 16 years ago, selecting it for the prominent faux blue sapphire gem at its epicenter. She had always cherished it, saw it in many ways as THE symbol of her marriage to Ralph, but now it was time to let it go.

She gazed one last time into the spoon's baby blue porcelain finish, and saw the reflection of her late husband in her eyes. As she gazed further into the gem, and saw the fire in Ralph's eyes fade back into the recesses of the gem, until she could only make out the cold depths of blue. She had held onto the spoon dearly. It was necessary to make an extreme sacrifice, the book said. "Attendees are required to bring with them an object of extreme affection, a test of their faith, they must be able to give up their love of pagan idolatry, their devotion to false prophets."