A young woman comes in and confesses she is sporting a thick rug, but she needed it bald because her man was getting released after five years of confinement. She wasn't kidding. It wasn't a rug, it was a dense shag carpet. She started screaming for Jesus. I'm begging her to breath because I know it hurts. Her screams can be heard down the street to St Anne' Church. I am confident she will need more than Jesus to get her through the service. It wasn't easy for either one of us. By the end of the service, my neck is screaming and so is her midsection. It was one of those moments where I confess that I'm getting too old for this shit.