Hinge. I’ve come across your type before. Snobbish little devil called Bracket. I expect you went to training college together over at Stygian Hall. That’s where you developed your fine taste in brimstone, started filing your horns, getting that embossed filigree on your wings, and what’s this? A black silk cape with a red lining? And your initials monogrammed in red silk? Where are you going… the opera? I can see you’ve had your beard trimmed as well–got rid of the goatee and are cultivating the well trimmed look are we? Don’t you think that’s a bit, well, Mefistofelean?
Forget all your vanities Hinge. Don’t you know that dreary season of Lent is coming up? It’s bad enough that you allow your patient to read that nauseating blog of ‘Father’ Longenecker’s but have you realized that your patient is thinking of purchasing Fr Longenecker’s infantile and revolting expose called The Gargoyle Code?
The priest who writes tacky little articles like ‘The Cheerful Exorcist’ keeps bouncing through life with a jaunty air about him which makes me sick. He’s a thoroughly proud and arrogant priest who always affects an air of self deprecating humor and mock humility. He makes me want to vomit my lava.
Your patient must not read that book Hinge. It’s designed to be read during Lent, and to reveal to the patient all our most clever tricks and subterfuges. Attack Hinge. Do everything you can to prevent your patient laying hands on the book. Put him under a haze. Put him under a shadow. Entrance him. Entrap him. Keep him anesthetized and dozy.
And keep him away from that Gargoyle Code piece of propaganda.