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Then the general of the Narcos asked the Protestant pastor to name two saints in remembrance of the deceased woman. Or even a Christian parable (according to Lutheran tradition). The Protestant Pastor named the saints and told the parable. Then he fainted without anybody being able to avoid it. And it wasn’t possible to rouse him except at totally unpredictable times, when he invoked his wife’s name and cursed Cappadocian black monks (who, as is well known, wear tasteless polyphemic cloaks made of funereal cloth), or when he arose to go to the bathroom, or when he arose to escape from the bathroom, or when he read psalms eating salmon and drinking champagne, laughing heartily (as if he found certain tunes ridiculous, or not comforting – at least not comfortable – for his spirit tamed by faith but literally disgusted by trust in the most blood related neighbor).
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