I hope you’re proud of yourself, Harold. That nice Jesus boy has died, and it’s all your fault. He had prospects, that Jesus, a nice carpentry business going. And that voice! He could climb a mount and give a sermon, and you’d be rapt. Rapt, I tell you! And now, pfffft.
All because of you, Harold, you and your sin. That one sin.
Oh, you know perfectly well which one, Harold. Don’t make me spell it out for you. We’ve all seen you. You think we didn’t notice, but a sin like that, how could we not? Any sensible person would tell themself it wasn’t right. A normal person, a good person, would know in his heart that this sin they were doing was bringing on eternal damnation. Not just for you, Harold, but for all of humankind. Such a sin!
We were all going to go to H-E-L-L, Harold, because of that sin of yours. And on a weekday evening. Who sins like that on a worknight? There were children nearby.


