God loves a winner
By Parson Thru
“Hey! Look everybody!” Shouts Mickey, pointing to a back corner of the Upper Circle.
A general stampede over seats and patrons ensues as the Gullible crush to spot the Deity up in the velvet gloom, under cover of which Mickey exits through the wings to the swung-open door of the Box Office and stuffs the night’s takings in a shopping bag.
As punters swoon in their hundreds and topple to the Stalls in the presence of The American God, Mickey legs it through the car park, smashing windows and grabbing purses as he goes, adding value to the night’s endeavour.
Another town, another gig. God loves a winner.