Subject: A Sunday parable
A story from the early years of the life of St. Don:

During his childhood, the mother of one of Little St. Don’s school friends passed away, in a freak accident, while attending a circus. At the funeral, the people were amazed when Little St. Don stood up on one of the pews and began to speak unto them.

He told a story about the time he, Little St. Don, had a terrific time, at a different circus. People seemed to really like him at that circus. It was the best circus that ever occurred. The people couldn’t get over it, how he could name each and every animal that came trotting out.

Still, it was sad about the death of Mrs. Murphy and all. Then again, who sits right under the flying trapeze? Crushed, wow, that had to hurt.

Speaking of flying trapezes, had everyone seen his recent report card? It was—the teachers were all saying this—one of the best report cards anyone had ever seen, since the beginning of time, including probably, you know, Napoleon or whoever. And Napoleon was a pretty smart cookie. But wow, how sad, to be crushed by a falling trapeze person. Poor Mrs. Murphy. Not her day, folks, I’ll tell you that.

Nearly forty minutes later, the people were astonished to find Little St. Don still standing on that pew, still talking. And lo, the crowd drifted away, until there were only, like, four people left, and three were fast asleep, and then, of course, the corpse of Mrs. Murphy was still there, and yet, in what soon became known as the Miracle of Mrs. Murphy’s Funeral, St. Don would later claim that the crowd grew and grew, until the church could barely contain the multitude.

—George Saunders