Eschrich-Lantry eats a Nine Dollar Drink

Remember that time you convinced me we would be driving around building churches?

perhaps the young girl should sit back and have a drink. [he had moved the bad art back inside. two uncannily ugly sinning sacks of shit that needed to be recessitated] but there just were too many things that had to happen in-between. it was much easier to just go get a drink. there were smoke clouds lingering on horizon, obscuring the tops of the purple haze. there had been a fire, somewhere: bitter words exchanged, a spark from a mislit john perhaps, a birthday candle gone awry?
she had thought, mindful of yesterday's mess, he had mentioned a hole in one of the canvases. in which case those dessicated salvaged pieces of a future dyptic should honestly be discarded. she had thought, mindful of yesterday's sermon, that the painting could somehow be saved.
"Dinner's ready" he had announced, as a car pulled into their driveway. [there wasn't really time to explain] They weren't really in a position to receive company, and this being yesterday's announcement received in today's addled future, he was really out at the market at this very minute gathering ingredients. This made the girl uncomfortable to contemplate... if the Last Supper were only you and your truly adored one, who was to betray who, and surely one of them was to be crucified? She crossed herself. "Smells like exhaust" she had commented. Eleven people could never fit in their tiny room, nor did they even posess a table, and barely even a kitchenette for that matter. Reason with yourself, she took a deep breath and exhaled.She had dreamt a few nights past of running to a rock, where her praise-the-lord was waiting. He was there, shirtless. Instead of doing what she had dreaded had to be the only way out, she slathered on some special sunblock.
Twilight ached softly into night. The blueish smoke from the afternoon had dissipated, and she could see three little birds on the telephone wire perpetrating a crime, unbeknownst to mankind.